Variety is the spice of life.

I've been rather quiet lately and I do apologise!  I've been super busy this last month and it feels like my feet have barely touched the ground!  In fact during my Breast Cancer Care walk - I don't think they did!

The Pink Ribbon walk was a charity walk my boyfriend and I took part in for Breast Cancer Care, it was a brilliant day!  Everyone who sponsored me -work, friends, family and in particular my twitter followers – I can’t thank you enough!

The day started at Cholmey Castle in Chester and on the drive there I spotted a sign for an ice cream factory, an ice cream factory sounds wonderful!  So that’s mentally bookmarked for another day. No quite honestly, I have bookmarked the website - they have over 30 flavours and a petting zoo. I don't know which part of that I'm more exciting about. Mmmm – oops, better get back on topic! 

Now I'll be honest with you when I signed up for the walk I thought it would be a lovely day in nice surroundings with inspiring people. It was all of those things but it was also mostly UP HILL. Miles and miles of walking UP HILL is a killer on the thighs and lungs and I am very impressed by the determination and drive of those taking part. I can also say I've never been so happy to eat that banana waiting for me at a rest stop! 

The whole day was very special and so well organised and I'm really glad I took part. I feel inspired to do more events for charity and who knows - maybe the London Marathon one day!

So, apart from doing a lot of walking I've been keeping myself busy in other ways as well!  I know those who follow me on twitter will have seen the tweets - I'm still doing Zumba. Still going weekly to the lovely Danielle for ViPR and Powerplate session. Still trying to get off the ground at pole dancing and somehow also working everyday at Hollyoaks!

I wanted to try something new - I had grown tired of bootcamp. Too much time spent in the plank position and far too much dog poo. I had decided that the hippies at the Yoga Centre were too judgemental and was also not enjoying the company of  one of the instructors whose wandering eye was wandering a little too often to my chest. 

But the thing with yoga is its good for me. Its such a wonderful form of exercise for anyone, and gives you time to just focus on yourself. Particularly good after a long day at work or a stressful period. So I whacked 'Yoga, Liverpool' into google to see what came up.  Unfortunately, nothing new appeared. Boo!. Most places seem to have classes at 5 or 6pm which is no good for those of us who work late or they require you to sign onto a course, which given my unpredictable life is not practical. Boo! Boo! Boo!. 

I thought about Thai Chi and wrinkled my nose. I thought about Pilates and yawned. I thought about rock climbing but then worried about the damage to my nails….so problem goes unresolved, the hunt goes on! 

Suggestions most welcome…we might even do a poll if there is a good variety of ideas!

Woggle With It.

Come on Bootcamp - Let's be 'aving you!

Today is the big day and we try Bootcamp. I am dragging two very kind and lovely friends with me. It’s cold. It’s quite damp out there, and again we have the struggle of not knowing what the hell to wear. Do all women have this dilemma, or is it only me who has a desperate need to be dressed correctly for each activity I do? I envy people who are genuinely comfortable in their own skin. In fact, that’s the point of all this bloody exercise. But first, I need to get the outfit right!

This need isn't just restricted to fitness this is in all walks of life. Whenever invited somewhere new, I will always covertly try and find out what the acceptable 'style' is. and then attempt to top it. I don't know if this is (to quote America's Next Top Model) my lack of 'personal style' or simply my desire to lend myself to each differently styled event. 

For example - as a child I was in the brownies. I didn't like the brownies - all that dancing around toadstools and making cups of tea for people I didn't know, just wasn't my scene.  There was a fun game though, which involved everyone sitting in pairs with legs straight, feet touching with each pair being given a number. When your number was called, you had to jump over all the other legs as quickly as possible, run round, leaping over legs and be first back in your place to win! Very dangerous to the shins as I remember, but lots of fun - health and safety wasn't such a concern then.

Plus I wasn't made a pixie. All the cool kids were pixies and I vaguely remember sitting under a table, legs and arms folded refusing to skip around the frigging toadstool, sing about Brown Owl and chant the Brownie Promise to be kind and nice, till I was rightly installed as Head Pixie and not a lowly gnome. No child wants to be a gnome. Being a gnome SUCKS. 

I also never managed to get a badge that wasn't a birthday one and they give those out to everyone. The point of brownies (I'm sure there are other points, but this is the only reason I could understand at the time) was to collect badges. There was the making old people cups of tea badge, the being able to cross the road safely badge, the sewing badge, the fire safety badge and lots of other fairly easy to collect badges and yet I only managed the birthday badge. Twice.

Clearly the brownies, Brown Owl, skipping, toadstools and those wonderful glittery perfect pixies were not for me but DAMN I had the uniform down. I had the brownie jogging bottoms, the brownie hoodie (in those days we would have called it a hooded sweatshirt) and I even had the brownie baseball cap. Even though my sash was bare, but for two badges with lines on them. I ROCKED IT. 

Brownie Fashion Jessica Fox Style!

Where was I? Oh yes! In a muddy park in the freezing cold on Sunday morning, wearing red jogging bottoms and black hoodie a la Rocky ( thought you'd want to know), whilst a cheeky Scouser gets us jogging on the spot, jumping, touching the floor, jogging again, doing the plank, jumping jacks, squatting, lunging, planking some more and then making us doing something 'they use as a torture device in Chinese prisons. Oh joy! Oh bloody marvellous, I think, as I sit shaking in a wide leg squat, with a pained expression. My face has got to be showing a 10 on the cheeky chappie's scale of 'how much this hurts'. 

But, here comes the magical part. Even though I am huffing, puffing and utterly appalled by how unfit I am, there is the promise that if I keep going, keep pushing, keeping trying…it'll get easier and I'll get fitter. 

Food for thought as I wash the mud, grass and possible dog shit off my red joggers. 

Blame it on the Groupon.

Personally…I blame Groupon.

I'm not exactly sure how it started. I just know that it did. Maybe it was the day I was sat on the sofa munching on M&S extremely chocolately biscuits and decided I better finish off the packet as there were 'only three left'. 

Never Mind I was stuffed. 

Never Mind that there are only six in a packet to begin with.

Very Never Mind that they were 120 calories each.

Or maybe it was the thought of spending another summer sweating in cardigans over my sleeveless tops because I have an obsession over my 'fat arms'. 

Or maybe it was because Groupon had an offer on bootcamp classes. 

Background on me. I'm not fat. I've never been fat. I was an terribly active child and now not so active adult but still fairly slim. As an 18 year old nothing fazed me, belly button bearing tops, short skirts with calf high boots (is that flattering on anyone?!) and anything and everything in between. My confidence would have knocked your socks off! 

Then something changes doesn't it? Suddenly all those sections in magazines about 'hiding your problem areas' get in a little bit. Suddenly I'm looking at my 'problem areas' and an obsession with my legs (did you know the bit from my knee to my ankle was too short?) and a rather mean comment on my 'wrestlers arms' meant shorts and skirt and sleeveless tops were OUT.

Anyway…I digress. 

Enough! I have decided to get fit. I don't want to get thin. I want to get fit. I want my 18 year old confidence back and I want to wear what I want, when I want and I still want to eat chocolate biscuits while I do it Goddamnit!!

Week 1 - Zumba. Anyone else do Zumba? Of course you do! I seem to be the last person in the world to have caught on to this craze and its bloody good fun. I don't care that I sweated, I don't care that I started to have an asthma attack somewhere between a body roll and a chachacha! It was FUN and I feel I have so much more energy that I just want to get on and do more! 

The next day I'm a little achey but I can live with it. I bounce into work feeling more alert than I have done in ages (and thats nothing to do with my fancy new flask full of my fancy new coffee) and entertain the crew by showing them the 'car wash move' complete with the sound effect I have given it. To explain, the move is a stomp stomp with your left foot, meanwhile your left arm circles quickly twice as if waving hello and then one big half moon circle to say 'hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii'. So we have stomp stomp Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii. Next we have bopbop. This move involves a big side step while giving the air a bear hug and two little jumps backwards - beeeeeeeaaaaaaaarrrrrrr bopbop. Getit? 

Hmmmm no wonder everyone gives me a wide berth! 

Bootcamp on Sunday and yoga in-between - I'll let you know how I get on!!