I want to burn 1000 calories in 30 minutes this week. I managed 900 in 26 minutes on Tuesday so I think I'm on my way there. The gym chap said this was about what Arctic explorers would burn so that was interesting.
If I manage to hit the target I'm going to celebrate by buying a stripey top like the sort you see in John-Paul Gaultier adverts.
Most of my wardrobe doesn't fit anymore so I'm searching for a new look, I don't think 'camp sailor' is going to be a big part of it but for some reason I really, really want a top like that.
It's slightly troubling.
Oh and Lycra is taking the chap back, and with one stroke has removed herself from the list of people I admire. The chap said he was going to fly over to see her (dramatic) but missed his flight (less dramatic) so they spoke on the phone (lame).
During this phone conversation he said two things
1) That he had already moved into an apartment
2) If Lyrca split up his family he would destroy her.
Now these two seem mutually exclusive to me, but it seems Lycra can't see that. The problem is there is a whole section of women who seem unable to be happy and beat themselves up running after utter shits like this chap, and I've had more than my fill of them already.
People like that definitely don't deserve to see me poncing about in my new t-shirt.
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