Lazy Arse…

It has been sometime since I last put thought to screen – sometimes there just isn’t much to comment on. However, this week seems to have been a week where arse(s) features heavily, if not always for the right reasons.

First, let me start with my own particular affliction – painful knees (stay with me here). For many years my right knee has always found ways to remind me it’s there, and that I, and it, are getting older. We havent quite reached the ‘weather vain’ status, where it notifies me when the weather is a bit damp and cold, but it does need a bit of coaxing first thing in the morning, and doesn’t like it when I rush around. Until now, I have always been able to rely on the left knee for support and balance. Until now.

About three months ago, the left knee decided that it had been abused for too long, and would no longer stand for it (or me) without sending shooting pains to my head or just throb like a sulky teenager. For Crossfit this presents a problem, and creates a vicious cycle where the pain creates bad movement, and bad movement creates more pain. Typically, I took the ‘non-intervention-it-will-get-better-on-its-own’ approach, but last week I decided enough was enough and took myself off to a physio to get fixed.

(I am sure I have aired my theory before that Crossfit was created by physiotherapists/chiropractors and the like, to generate income. One breaks me, the other puts me back together. It should not have surprised me therefore that the face greeting my at the reception was none other than Teri from the same crossfit club!)

After a few different assessments the conclusion was delivered

“You have a lazy arse”


“Your Glutes are engaging very late, making your Quads do all the work – that’s putting stress on your knees”

“Makes sense, what now?”

“Now I get to inflict massive pain on you legs and make you do ridiculous exercises – this is the bit of the job I love…” She didn’t really say that, but you could tell that’s what she was thinking! I got my own back by pretending it didn’t hurt and asking if I could book a session every day…

My second ‘Arse event’ was thanks to Frank.

There is an unwritten, but clearly understood code when it comes to what to wear, and how to wear it, especially for men. ‘Skins’, or tights are fine – but MUST be worn under shorts, after all, this isn’t fucking ballet.

I was wearing mine for the first time, and wondering whether I would ever get used to the slow, but incessant plucking of my leg hair, when Frank walks over to congratulate me on yet another fashion blunder. I didn’t notice at the particular moment that Frank was only wearing tights, but it became abundantly clear when we started doing bear walks in a line…  Andy summed it up best

“Frank, for the love of God, cover up your fucking arse!”

The third and final interaction with ‘an arse’ came on eBay. I have decided to get rid of loads of ‘stuff’ that has been lying around the house (i.e. Helen had hinted to the point when the hint was now a clear instruction) and sell it on. This should be a straight forward exercise were it not for the brainless arses that seem to spend their whole adult life surfing eBay and asking stupid question about things they have no intention of ever buying. To those frustrating arses I say this “Bid or fuck off you stupid arse”

I’ll let you know how the knees get on…




I ate cake.

Ten little minutes of slippage in an otherwise unblemished 8 months of primal eating would surely slide by unnoticed?

I thought it would be ok, after all I’ve not eaten a slice of legit, sugar-crammed cake since March. How wrong can a girl be?

For no less than 4-5 days I suffered from swelling and cramps in the abdomen. My belly bloated a good 3 inches. I thought I might pop and drift away with the breeze, accompanied by a farty noise.

So here’s the moral of my story….once Paleo, forever Paleo. It just hurts too darned much to go back, even for ten little minutes.

Let that be a lesson to you me.