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Tuesday, 20 November 2012

Freudian dream followed by ranting

Remember how yesterday I spent some time looking at make-up? Well, I had a dream about the nude lipstick I'm obsessed about, in case it wasn't clear I'm obsessing. In the dream I was at the store with BCM who bought other things and I passed them through the cashier holding the lipstick in my hand, waiting to put it through. Except I forgot and realised I'd gone without paying only when it was too late. I stopped to wonder if the police wouldn't come after me but then dream-me remembered thieves are only prosecuted when they steal more than a certain amount of money's worth in products. Obsession indeed.

Shall I rant about aunt A's attitude towards the gym trainer? I will anyway because it's overdue and I just know it will come up again later. 

Aunt A thinks she knows better than anyone what's wrong with her and what's good for her. Which is why she eats food she's not supposed to even though she's trying to lose weight, for example. She said her doctor told her not to put too much strain on her back because it might hurt her bones. Reasonable. She said her doctor told her to work out. Reasonable. She told the trainer to lower her weights to whatever felt easy because anything hard to raise with her arms was hurting her back. Mind you, the trainer is a grandmother. No matter how young a grandmother, I can bet she's worked for a very long time as a trainer. She's most likely worked with lots of people like aunt A with similar problems. I'm more than sure she designed the exercise in a way that aunt A would be using her arms and wouldn't have to worry about her back. That's why they make exercises targeting certain muscles. She didn't explain any of this. She knew to shut her mouth and let aunt A do whatever she wanted instead of pushing the subject and making her mad. (Aunt A would have surely snapped and barked at the nice trainer). 

In the car, aunt A started complaining to me about the trainer. She said the trainer shouldn't make her work out so much or think she was being lazy for not lifting the weights. I told her it was supposed to be difficult. She started with "It's supposed to be difficult for you, you're young and I'm old and I'm sick and tired and shouldn't be forced to work out." I told her she was right and shut up because it was pointless. Aunt A said nothing more in the 20-30min ride to the house. 

The fact that a certain exercise is challenging doesn't mean it's hurting her. It means her body (like mine) has gotten used to the inactivity and refuses to let go of the fat storage. This is good, because it means you're having to use up the fat you want to get rid of. To be effective, exercise shouldn't be easy. You have to step it up, keep it challenging. Otherwise your body gets used to it and makes a minimal effort, burning minimum calories and showing minimum results for whatever workout regimen you've chosen. There's a very clear difference between exercise being hard and exercise being hard on you. Exercise should be a little hard. That doesn't make it hard on you as long as you do it correctly and that's the bloody point of having a trainer show you how to do it. Far be it from me to have to explain this to aunt A. 

Since I said nothing to her, she bursted into complaints to uncle A elaborating on her argument. By then she'd decided her doctor told her to stick to walking. Well, if he did, why the hell does she go for the weights? The whole reason she wanted a trainer was to get someone teach her how to use the weights. If she's not supposed to use them in the first place, according to her doctor, why insist so much that you'd pay a pretty penny and make a six month commitment to use them? Unreasonable.

She thinks it's mean of me to think she can do better, she can do more, she can get better. I think it's mean of me not to. She can sulk all she wants, I'm not changing my mind. At times she does complain too much and her complaints make weak excuses. This is compounded by the fact that her actions worsen the ailments she complains about.

She'll be saying the whole gym contract for six months was a waste and a stupid way to use money she would have spent in make-up or skincare. She'll resent the trainer. She'll decide the only reason we got a trainer in the first place was somehow related to me. Let it go on record that it was her bloody idea. I'll take advantage of the trainer, as much as I can, because it's paid for and it would be a waste if we didn't use it. 

On a different note, aunt A asked over the weekend if I'd like to get a haircut. She said she needed to get an appointment to dye her hair this week and mentioned she could get one for me. I thought about it and since I got my last haircut in August and it's been about 3 months it's about time. I can go longer (I was cutting my hair twice a year for years and it was going fine). It started out being very thoughtful of her. She's currently out at the first opening the salon could make for her. I haven't gone to make lunch for myself because uncle A is here sleeping. I didn't go earlier because he was here, eating. And I can't bear him eating. I can't even stand him burping so loudly in the kitchen that I can hear it from my room. It's mortifying. I'll go when he's done. While I'm at it, there's quite a bit of laundry to fold (aunt A started doing the laundry, but left pretty much all of it half-done, with a big load in the dryer and another one in the washing machine, only a few of my uncle's shirts ready to be folded). 


Today's completely unrelated note is about LesMisGuy. I may have read somewhere that one of the reasons a man will not ask you out is he's decided you're crazy. I might be. That might be the reason LesMisGuy decided he wanted nothing to do with me. I'm the fucking creep. For all I complained of the men after me, that's what LesMisGuy must have thought of me. How horrid!

[11:00pm edit]
Let it go on record that it's been a year and a week (I checked) since LesMisGuy and I kissed and I still can't stop obsessing about it. Crazy indeed.

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