Monday, 26 September 2011

Caesar might have married Cleopatra, but he already had a wife at home. Theres always something- Will Cuppy

The big phat bollywood wedding. Not the civil ceremony. Not the Mehndi. Not the part where the aunties awkwardly dance and pat your head. But the part where the bride looks beautiful in red. The part where everyone looks on in stunned awe. A 5 tier cake. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (the inspiration). Professional dancers this time. And the official stamp of approval.






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Sunday, 25 September 2011

I'm not being superficial, but looks do attract me from across the gym- Kiana Tom

I haven't updated my blog in a while, which prompted a sudden rush to fill in my existance for the past couple of months. I will do that, but in the meantime i came across some old articles i wrote for 'Pugwash' in my final year at Portsmouth. Instead of disposing them, i've decided to upload and record them here on my blog for future references. The first article I've decided to grace my blog is about my love affair with a certain health institution.

---Growing up, I was always the kid that did whatever it took to get out of P.E. Running around in the cold grizzly British weather, whilst competitive popular ‘mean girls’ shunned hockey sticks at my ankles didn’t really seem like my idea of fun. I just didn’t understand the enthusiasm in which some people forayed into the world of physical activity. On the flipside, talking to me today- I’m a completely different person. I still don’t compete in sporting activities, due to my sheer hatred of competitiveness and having all the fun sucked out of something that’s meant to be enjoyable. It’s all about doing it for myself. I mentioned that I hated competing with people, but when I compete with myself it’s a completely different story. I’m quite a deep and analytical girl and when it comes to working out and pushing yourself- sometimes you have to reach down to the deepest pit of your sanity to find strength. I’ve had days when I’m struggling to run even ten minutes, overcome with bouts of breathing troubles and having an internal war with myself, reinforced with a positive imaginary ‘Olympic’ victory if I finish (Hey, anything to get me through!). Yet I have other days when I can easily glide along for half an hour, smile on my face with a distant daydream in my mind. I don’t know how to control when I work efficiently at the gym and when I don’t. It’s an internal encounter every day. However, after a gruelling cardio workout, and a couple minutes of regaining my normal breathing I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alive. I don’t think my blood has pumped harder and I don’t think my overall stability has been better. It’s quite a euphoric time.
The connection I’ve formed with the gym is quite an attached one. I become a needy girl in a troubled relationship. I always need to go to the gym when I want to feel better about myself. Although, even when the gyms been bad to me on a particular day, I still go running back. I can’t control the urges and sometimes I feel like I’m too emotionally invested. Breaking up with the gym would devastate me. Some people turn to ice cream when they feel down and while I do consider myself a mighty foodaholic (which triggered the gym craze in the first place). I appreciate the fact that I need to feel better about myself, especially in the long term. I hate the feeling of eating a really scrumptious, yet highly calorific slice of chocolate cake and feeling good for a couple minutes. I would rather ‘kill myself at the gym’ as I put it and feel intoxicatingly blissful for the rest of the day. What started as a battle to shift a few extra pounds three years ago made quite an impression on me and I’m proud to say that this new lifestyle choice I’ve engaged in will benefit me in the years to come!
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