Civilian

I know this song has received great publicity from The Walking Dead. I absolutely adore this song. Not sure if it's the way it's sung, the tune or all three.

Civilian - Wye Oak
I am nothing without pretend
I know my thoughts
Can't live with them
I am nothing without a man
I know my faults
But I can hide them

I still keep my baby teeth
In the bedside table with my jewelry
You still sleep in the bed with me,
My jewelry, and my baby teeth

I don't need another friend
When most of them
I can barely keep up with
I'm perfectly able to hold my own hand,
but I still can't kiss my own neck

I wanted to give you everything
but I still stand in awe of superficial things
I wanted to love you like my mother's mother's mothers did
Civilian

Sentiments

I'm far too sentimental. And also gullible. I try to understanding reasoning and I think I let myself down there.

If someone makes an excuse for something but has a super good story/reason behind it - 9/10 I'll believe it.

I also put too much faith in having history. I think because someone has known me for most of my days - easy more than half my life - they won't hurt me, treat me like shit and generally step into/over/under my feelings. No, I think they'll be honest and considerate and a real friend.

So this past week my heart has felt betrayed and sore and like it's been dipped in 10 day old chip fat. It feels dirty, truth be known. Oh and sucked in and played and tossed out on the trash heap. I think that gives just a little indication of how let down I feel.

And not because of any such action or any kind of promises. But just because I thought I meant more than the average person and therefore a heads up would have been the decent thing to do? Maybe I do suffer from delusions of grandeur and could it be that I don't mean as much to people as I thought I did? Does it mean that all my friendship was based on something that didn't actually exist? How bizarre?

You get to questioning yourself - this is the bit I've been doing all week - and the questions I've been trying to find the answers to are these?

a) Are old friends necessarily the ones that know you best?
b) Is it the friendship or the person at fault?
c) Is it because the friend has known you forever and therefore knows that you're a pushover and will be 'cool' in time.

If it's c) then that's very sad because I have changed over the years.

My labels

I've been pretending to exercise from about the age of 15.

I would dress up in a tee shirt and running shorts. Complete with trainers/takkies/sneakers. Tie my hair back. Get the dogs and proclaim I was taking them for a run.
In actual fact what I was doing, was jogging down to the next road where a Boys Town was, palming my dogs onto the little boys who would take them for a much longer, harder run than I ever would have, in exchange for a few lollipops. What I would be doing was flicking my hair out my ponytail, batting my eyelashes and flirting with and at the older boys (my age). I don't think my mother ever knew that.

This pretending to exercise continued when we moved to Port Elizabeth. I would have to do some running but then it was time to sneak a ciggie out my shorts and smoke while the dogs ran riot in the quarry. Those Keep Out signs didn't even flicker onto my brain.

I have been quite proud of the fact that I have NEVER done a circuit of a gym. I look at the running machines, akin to how a lot of people look at asparagus and olives. With a mixture of horror and revulsion.

I did Boxercise for a few weeks - thankfully, I then broke my hand and had the ideal excuse not to attend anymore. Incidentally I did not break my wrist/hand/etc to avoid Boxercise but it did come at the right time. I tried body conditioning but I thought I was going to die.

I've got enough exercise DVD's to start my own exercise dvd shop but they bore me after about two go's on them.

Suffice to say - if you want me to do exercise, I'll find an excuse to bail out of it. It's not that I don't like exercise, it's just that I felt I was slim enough without needing it really. And it all requires just so much effort. Effort and energy I could spend doing something else, like writing this blog for instance. I have the attention span of a goldfish..... oooh look I'm making excuses again.

My point being that after having a great metabolism for the last many decades, it's finally caught up with me and I'm beginning to resemble the baby Buddha I was prior to being 2. I no longer burn fat just by staring into a book. I don't want to stop my lovely food - therefore I realise I have to stop the procrastinating and literally get off my arse and do something.

So I've got a contraption. I don't know what it's called. A gym buff would...but I refer you to paragraph 4. It's got steps and swingy arms and legs.

And I think it tried to kill me last night.

It folds up like an ironing board (another thing I struggle with) and it quite perplexed me as to how it unfolds. I took so long trying to logically work it out, that the damned thing bit my fingers - much like an ironing board does. Eventually The Teenager had to do it for me.

I then decided to start off slow and build up the speed. This worked. I got into a stride and then I ....double bounced? I overstepped? Anyway, I nearly fell off it at great speed. My heart was so shocked at the activity I was doing, it nearly climbed out of my chest and there were bits of me wibbling away, that I didn't know existed on my body!

BUT, I quite liked it too.... and since it's only me I'm fooling by pretending to do exercise, I might just continue with it.

There's also the fact, I have no room to buy new clothes to fit the ever expanding me.