Friday, 22 June 2012

Image 52 - Week 25.. A Life In The Shadow, Looking Through The Window., Gas Prices and Chub Watch 2012

The xx: Intro

"Yes dear., I had a great time this weekend.."

Collaborations, Black Ties and spontaneity..

The Letter


European Championships, BMI calculator.. and Advice..

So., this week I may have seen a European soccer match or two.-  I've also missed one or two too.. 
I have also been there..; actually here and there.. I've also been to the Ball., shook a leg and caught the correct bus.. albeit a six hour one..

"Yes, I'm leaning towards the Germans winning it Ethel.."
It all started a very long time ago, in a land far, far away.; there were lions and tigers, elephants and not to mention palm trees, balmy evenings and distant sounds of exotica.., but somehow I've made it (reluctantly) back to the here and now.. although Saturday proved to be a day and a half.  and has now entered the private memoirs as yet another one to try and recall when the old memory starts to fail me...

Exercise (?), I'll start tomorrow.. zzzz

 At some point after breakfast on Saturday morning, I discovered I was way shorter than my passport would indicate .; infact now I know I need a small step to reach the bloody door handle.. and that top shelf in the fridge is looking like a mountain for me to climb.. So please leave the milk on the lower shelf from now on if you don't mind.
 I guess the deal is, never to measure yourself in running shoes with great new grips, a comfy additional pair of inner soles and nice, thick, soft, cushioned pair of sports sock on ... Those soles, socks and inner soles must have at least an inch and a half in them.. Standing bare feet against the wall,  I was marked and after stretching as tall as I could without my heals leaving the floor, I eventually moved away and looked at the marker made and left just inches from the damn underfloor heated tiles I was standing on.! This discovery shattered the start of my day and from there I had to then weigh myself.. After all, my current weight would be fine if I was taller, but then I had to BMI myself, just to check I wasn't as round as tall.. My mind was running riot with the list of insecurities I live with on a day to day basis and now, I had more to add to the bloody things.. My darned height.., or lack thereof.. I'm now looking for platformed flip flops with lifts on them..
"On your mark., get set...; hang on., hang on.. BMI, you said..?"

After surrounding the glass scales with cushions, I negotiated climbing onto the carefully placed thing that sat on the perfectly hard and flat surface.. I felt safe enough to climb off the scales after checking my weight in lbs, stones and then those nasty little blighters, kilos.. Who the hell ever thought a kilo was a weight must be nuts.; a kilo even sounds like it's as heavy as one of those ship containers that house a bunch of Asian imported cars to me and if I weigh more than a kilo, I'm sinking, however.. and without pulling any ligaments, I successfully made it on and off the scales without injury other than my emotional pride..; now stunned.. 4'11" isn't really tall..; ok, ok, a little artistic license., it's taller than 4'10", but still not the 6'3" I thought I was.. Now for the weight.., hmm, not bad, but lets get this BMI thing measured..

What was meant to be a great few days away with the coolest friends, enjoying a relaxed start to the day and weekend with the breakfast digesting gently, surrounded by the sounds of laughter tunes and a waking house now was proving to be a full on medical check up.. Ok, so now I'm weighed, measured and onward to the study and computer for this new fangled (to me) three initialled word.. BMI. What the eff was a BMI.? Broke, Male and Insecure..? Barking Mad and Illegal..; hmm, could be., but I was pretty sure it wasn't one of those, although..Ballsy, Moody and Irate was getting closer.. BMI, 'What The Eff'.. Body Mass Index.! Who'd a figured..! I now wondered if there was a measurement for someone who came up to the door handle.. and had to climb on and off the weighing scales.. Kilos, somewhere like a ship's container.? Just roll me down the hill.., but in lbs, somewhere closer to 160 ish which made my BMI .., hmm, 23.5

Free Cash eh.! Hmm..

A chart designed, drawn up and entitled Chub Watch 2012 was  looking resplendent with colour, names and weight goals bouncing off the screen for my fading and disillusioned eyes to take in.

Traumatised by these unknown numbers, I headed straight for the gym..; I wanna be something like a 22.5 (at the most).. for some reason I have no clue about.. I'm now on a kick.., a kick to see if there's any elastic left in my ageing body.. I need to at least see if there's a pack to rip.. I'm not greedy, I certainly don't need a six pack, but one would do..  But those machines were pounded, sweat on, pulled and pushed and tested for over an hour..

Now, where were we..? Ahh yep., BMI, gym, and the Saturday morning was now turning into the afternoon.. and I was still having to reach to the top shelf of the fridge for anything I needed outta the damn thing.. SO, I'm 23.5 - 4'11" and 325 lbs.. See how this self image impression gig works.. It plays games with ya.. I'm so staying away from mirrors unless it's to check on the shaved reverse mohican I'm planning..
"Of course I'm happy dear.."

Right.. A healthy Saturday lunch digested, the word in the chateaux was all about the evening's Black tie Charity Ball my friends and hosts were going to.. and the couple of available seats that were proving difficult to fill at such a last minute.. It seemed that with each hour and call put out, the 7.00pm witching hour was edging ever closer.. I had, as always, just turned up and crashed the generous host's home for a quiet few days, using the gym, prepping for this weeks 52 and here I was measured, weighed and being invited to fill a seat at the dinner table. My suitcase contained nothing more than a few spare socks, some Calvin Klein/Ralph Lauren 'stuff' that keeps my bits and pieces comfy.,  a tooth brush and a side pocket full of laptop, camera and phone cables.., but nothing to satisfy a Black Tie dinner.. I looked at my New Balance trail shoes, my shorts and t-shirt and had this feeling that they would be kinda inappropriate., which is when all hell let loose.. and wardrobes were being opened, stairs being run up and down and more mirror action than at the Paris fashion show..
Taxi for one dressed up Mod

The taxi booked for 7.00pm was only an hour away and I had visions of the host's spare suits hanging off me.. ; after all, now I knew I was only 4'11" as opposed to his 6'2" inch frame and my 325lbs against his toned and lean 175, I figured I was in big trouble.. and we hadn't even got to the whole shoes deal yet, but I knew my size 10's weren't going to fit in a pair of 11's.. Yep, this wasn't going at all well, but., BUT.. can you believe it.., there really is a fairy god mother..! 

This whole mind thing and where it goes, plays games with ya if you let it.. and that's fer sure.., so sometimes You've just gotta go with that moment and then some..
Yet another lesson I was reminded not to forget

I tried on the first dinner jacket and poof, this flash of smoke surrounded me and this darn mirror I was looking at actually reflected an image that worked.. The sense of shock and surprise was evident as we all looked and thought.., "hmm, this thing could actually work"..; ok, so I definitely needed a pair of black trousers 'cause I wasn't feeling my Levis.., but with three adult males in the house and three completely different body shapes, I'm game for spontaneity and adventure, so, in for a pound, in for a dollar.. Bloody hell, the first pair of trousers I tried on slid over my legs, up to my waist and actually buttoned.., just as I noticed they were a 31" waist.. Smile.." lovin' this"..,  Oh yeah dude., still got it going on..
Cough, cough, but in reality, I just won't breath., or eat, or sit down., I thought. I did mention size 31 inch waist didn't I.?
So, dinner trousers on, dinner jacket on.. The black t-shirt I was wearing had to go.. I had visions now of wearing a dinner shirt that hung off my neck, but with an outstretched hand I took the first shirt off the hanger, tried it on and holy cow..I'm so going to get away with this..; shoes.., shoes..The black suede loafers my hiking socked feet slipped into., fit like a glove.. and even I was pretty shocked by this time, but to be honest, I think we all were.. Strapping the ole bow tie on was a doddle, cuff links in place and I was ready in time for the taxi and the eight stunningly dressed strangers who were going to make up the table.. 

The stunningly beautiful dinner suited venue welcomed me with a glass of Champagne just before the walk across it's manicured and very windy grounds towards the Marquee tent where I eventually sat on Table 27, alongside the dance floor front and centre for dinner.... The evening was on.. and only just beginning., apparently.. I reached and opened a red, filled the glass and smiled at the unbelievable turn of events that had happened over the past hour.

It's always about the second glass of liquid that does it.. and sure enough, the over sized marquee, filled with some 300 dinner attired guests, started to respond to the live 6 piece band and auction.. I hadn't even noticed the chandeliers swaying to the blustery conditions because from behind me, I felt a tap and question.. ; the very question that sends shivers down my spine and my body responded with it's usual shudder, but hey, I don't get asked and invited to dance very often, if ever, at all and as a wannabee gent, I couldn't very well turn down an evening Ball gown's request to shake it all about.. With a huge inhale and the words ringing in my ears... I took her invitation up and followed this stranger to the dance floor and thought, "hmm, well, she DID say she wasn't a great dancer..!!!" WRONG.., I was sucker punched, blind sided and truly eff'd..!! Several hours later and doing my best, but still, most embarrassing Michael Jackson impression, I BEAT IT.., I Saturday Night Fevered it.. and I Black Eyed Pead it.. and to the point that this Ball even claimed one of my borrowed/lent cuff links, somewhere on that dance floor.. So I moon walked, grabbed my crotch and jumped around, before the carriage turned up seemingly as quick as it had brought me..

All was good and I woke up on Sunday morning refreshed and hit the bloody gym again.. Effing BMI.., I'm still only 4' 11"..

And THAT was just a few hours of one day..


 I haven't even got round to sharing my Triathlon experience yet with you guys either.. , or special, private viewing of London's 2012 Olympic volunteer wardrobe..; but thanks to Adidas, Swatch and MM for sharing that particular excitement..
Or the spectacular painting that will hang on opening, preview day.
I heard the London to Brighton bike ride went well.. and the frog spotted was doing a perfect breast stroke in the 14 degreed pool..
I think I may have also tweaked a knuckle on my right hand relocating the pool cover..; nothing serious or even news worthy, but at least now you know..
I'm not good at knowing this stuff, but think I was chatted up at a Subway... and I'm not sure only because I think her carer., or companion had stepped away leaving her alone for a moment..

Thou shall go to the Ball..

Thanks this week go to Fiji water - Animal - The weather forecast - BMI - Shuttleworth College - Borrowed Dinner suits - Michael Jackson impersonators - Wayne Rooney - A Gooner - FORD -  ITV and BBC (for their European Championship coverage) - My spare battery - Beales (for their sale and the mannequin I stripped) - the Riviera - A plank carrying beachcomber .. and a partridge in a pear tree..

You go ..

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