Day 11 ON MY OWN – @themalenanny

I awoke to this text, from Sam:

No running for me today. This cold hath slain me.

I texted back saying:

Pussy.

He texted back saying:

Snotty.

I ran on my own, like the wind, lonely and invisible and pissing dogs off. When they decide to run alongside me, I smile at their owners and say, through this smile:

“Fuck off, you mutt”.

And, if they continue to follow me and nibble at my heels, I stop and lean down and appear to give ‘em a stroke, but I don’t stroke them at all, I pinch them and they yelp and fuck off.

When Sam is with me, we don’t get chased by dogs. This is probably because he carries with him a device that omits a noise that hurts dogs ears, but is not audible to humans. Either that, or it is a rape alarm. He has it on his key-ring and whenever I ask him about it he gets all awkward and says:

“It’s nothing. Don’t look at me”.

Hmmmm.

I did some sit-ups today. And some pull-ups. I look and feel fantastic. It’s all about healthy body, healthy mind, you know? I am not saying you are a bad person if you are fat, but you are less of a person, you know? Society values body over brain, which is right, you know? Anyone can be a brilliant thinker or inventor or visionary or writer, but not anyone can get ripped like a mad cunt, can they? You’ve either got it, or you ain’t, and the end of the day.

L8rs.

Day 11 – The Gym Jukebox – @DameDeborah

Hello.

Today I haven’t eaten very much. I have also been to the gym. The productivity of my gym sessions is always very dependent on the music they have playing. Today it was good. Last time I was there they were playing ballads. FUCKING BALLADS. IN A GYM. Not cool.

Today they played Michael Jackson’s “Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough”, and everyone loves a bit of MJ. Even the Haters.

Then they played Kylie’s “Can’t Get You Out Of My Head”. This was good because I plan to have a body like Kylie’s by the new end date of Apollo (November 14th, I think). Inspiring.

And they played Fools Garden’s “Lemon Tree”. This is a song which was in the charts when I was 17, the skinniest I ever was, with my whole life ahead of me.  The Husband denies this song was ever popular in this country. But I’m certain he’s lying.

I am now going to go to the theatre to see The Taming of the Shrew with one of the loveliest ladies I know. She will make me laugh a lot. This should burn some calories.

Thank you, and Goodbye.

Day OFF – @themalenanny

Today

 

I had

 

A day off.

So fucking WHAT?

Days 9 & 10 : The Time Apollo Forgot – @DameDeborah

Hello!

It turns out I really don’t have patience for blogging, hence the Two Days at a Time shenanigans I have going on.

Yesterday, really was quite phenomenal. I managed to avoid eating any real “Meal”, that would be accepted and embraced by society. I pride myself in flying in the face of convention and living the life of an outlaw.  Having meetings all day meant that smashing conventional meal times was easy peasy.

I started the day with a banana, a pear, and a couple of cereal bars – the cereal bars were from a health food shop, so I’m pretty sure they were very, very good for me (I did avoid buying goji berries, because, although they are (apparently) an aphrodisiac, they really are fucking revolting).  Round about two o’clock I ate another banana and a punnet  of cherry tomatoes.  At 4ish I ate two boiled eggs. No toast – that’s dedication.

I then went to an audition which finished at about half past seven, and I didn’t get home until 9.  Now, this is when things really went WILD. I was a bit over excited, because the audition went pretty well, so when I got home, I decided to treat myself with two slices of toast and Marmite, a glass of red wine and a whole 100g bar of Green & Black’s milk chocolate with almonds.  This, you might think, was simply insane. Not only did I give in to bread and booze, but also CHOCOLATE….

…. Not so, it seems. When I weighed myself this morning I had lost a pound (lb, not £) since yesterday.

Today really has been remarkably boring, at my end.  I appear to be the only person who didn’t meet up with @AmateurAdam, but I won’t take it personally, I’m sure it’s just because he couldn’t get through on the phone.

X

Day 10 @RedEaredRabbit: Lunch with Adam

Today I met @AmateurAdam for lunch, the first time we’d seen one another since the commencement of Project Apollo. Annoyingly he looked like he’d lost weight.

“You look like you’ve lost weight,” he said to me, rather unconvincingly.

“Well, I haven’t,” I said with indignation, “I am every bit as heavy as I was when this silly project started.”

“Well, you look slimmer.”

“The scales tell a different tale. If I have become slimmer then I have simply become, in equal measure, more dense.”

We each surveyed our menus. I didn’t want to order first, I wanted to see what he had and then pick something healthier so I could sneer down my nose at him while he ate.

The waiter appeared.

“Would you like some bread and oil?” he asked.

“Yes please,” I responded without thinking.

Too late, I realised my mistake. Adam was sneering down his nose at me, like I’d just asked for deep-fried butter on a stick. (That exists by the way.)

The waiter returned to take our orders and Adam, like the cunning rat he is, buried his nose deep into his menu until the waiter turned to me instead. It didn’t matter too much though, I’d worked out a plan for certain victory. I’d decided to order only a starter, and it was surely the lowest calorie dish on the menu – a solitary fishcake. Not only was it surely the lowest calorie dish, I knew that being a vegetarian, Adam would not be able to order it too and match the low calorie count as the vegetarian options all seemingly involved large quantities of goat’s cheese.

I handed my menu to the waiter with my eyes fixed on Adam and a sneer that made his previous sneer look positively sneerless. If sneers were real people then mine was Cyril Sneer. It was brilliant – I had check-mated him without him even making a single move.

“I’ll just have a rocket salad, please,” Adam calmly instructed.

My sneer drained into the kind of face one probably makes when they realise that their kinky strangulation masturbation session has gone wrong and they are going to die. And be discovered by their mum.

“There’s no rocket salad on here, you fucking, cheating shit!” I shouted. “You’re a sneaky, fucking cheat!”

The waiter and most of the other diners were looking at me and they looked scared. I regained my composure and the waiter departed to fetch our orders. The rocket salad it transpired, was a side dish. A fucking side dish. I hadn’t looked at those.

The waiter soon returned with our orders of one starter and one side dish for the table and heavens to Betsy, it was the smallest rocket salad and the biggest fish cake I have ever seen. It must have included at least three adult sturgeon.

Mine looked like this:

Luncheon

It’s hard to get a true perspective of scale but that plate was about a metre in diameter.

I tried in vain to convince Adam to eat several cheese boards for dessert but he knew he’d beaten me and wasn’t about to slip up now. When he strode off to the bathroom it was with the peppery taste of rocket in his teeth and the sweet smell of victory in his nostrils. So while he was up I dropped half a container of this into his Diet Coke:

Adam's Secret Mixer

When it comes to sneaky, don’t fuck with the Rabbit.

RedEaredRabbit

The run – an alternative perspective – @Biltawulf

I set my alarm to wake me at 8:00 am this morning as @AmateurAdam and I had agreed to meet on Clapham Common for a run. Admittedly that may seem excessively early as I live next to Clapham Common, but I had a plan.

THERMOBOL

So at 8:00 am I took my first Thermobol capsule then went about my pre-run routine. So I ironed four shirts and ate a plate of ham and scrambled eggs. At 09:23 I received a text message;

Cab not arrived – just called a new one. Best say 10:15 for safety X PS [there was a skull inserted here]

Clearly @AmateurAdam had slept in. Sensing the opportunity to improve my performance further I took the opportunity to take another Thermobol tablet and searched Youtube for some warm-up exercises. I found some old woman who was clearly targeting a retired audience. Perfectly suited to me. And so, to the Common.

We met by the Netherlands Circus Tent (tickets available for all shows 45 minutes before performance). I had limbered up a little already, but to give @AmateurAdam a chance I agreed to go through the 5 minute warm up walk again. By the end of this @AmateurAdam was already in tears and we had to make a quick call to his mum so that she could calm him down. After that we got on with the running. 20 seconds in he collapsed and started vomiting what looked suspiciously like Fererro Roche. I did a quick 400 metre circuit then came back to help him up. This routine continued for another 35 minutes during which time he brought up decent helpings of vodka, cheese and bread sauce mixed with pasta. As long as they don’t mind the slight tang of bile there’ll be some pretty satisfied tramps on the Common this evening.

Anyway at the end of it all we agreed that we’d probably covered 5km (his phone appeared to confirm this) and we went our separate ways. I felt good. On getting home I did the “Perfect Runner’s Warmdown” routine (again Youtube) then got to work on my biceps. As I’ve said before, it’s all about the guns.

Project Apollo is just warming up.

Today’s nosh

Day 10 – RUN – @amateuradam

This morning I went for a run for @Biltawulf. The location was Clapham Common, which was nice because I’d never seen it during daytime before.

Unfortunately the run had been slightly mis-sold to me – the method @Biltawulf uses is as follows:
10 Walk for over a minute
20 Jog for under a minute
30 GOTO 10

This was the exercise equivalent of thinking of the Queen Mum during sex – makes it last longer, certainly, but it’s overall a rather unsatisfactory experience.

I burnt off the equivalent of a KitKat, and for lunch will be having the equivalent of a KitKat (a dark chocolate KitKat).

Day 9, Absolution – @themalenanny

Something interesting happened today. Let me tell you…

Last Friday, I went to the pub with Sam and we were sitting chatting and being very private, like always, when our table was hijacked by a group of teenagers who were celebrating their friends 18^th. I ended up getting one of these 18 year old’s phone number and for the next couple of days we texted and arranged to meet on Wednesday (today) for lunch.

Now, I had no qualms about meeting with an 18 year old (I am 23), particularly one this good looking, but a confession came on Wednesday: She was 17, not 18.

I asked Sam and he has something called principles and he told me I should go. The question I asked myself was: What sort of a reflection would it be on my character? The answer was: a bad one.

But I was excited.

I arrived at the café and waited for her, like a puppy and leapt up when she arrived, like a puppy and I ordered water, like a puppy.

She spoke a lot and I tried to listen. But the more someone speaks and reveals themselves, the more they fade. I wanted her to shut up, to answer my questions cryptically and to pout and look at her phone and ignore me. But she didn’t. She spoke and spoke and spoke and was attentive.

I ate a pumpkin salad because of this Project Apollo thing and it was horrible.

When we emerged from the cafe, I was a dog, not a puppy. My voice had acquired a raspy tone, the kind one gets when one awakes from a deep sleep. I walked her to the bus stop and chucked her on board.

I received this text from her as I ambled home:

Hey, you are really lovely and gorgeous but I am just not ready for a relationship right now, if you get me. Had great time though so be great to see you again lol no strings attached. Xxx

If I could chose, there would be strings, attached to her jaw to shut her up.

This is all relevant, by the way, because this blog is, for me, about getting an eight pack so women find me acceptable.

I ate well today but didn’t run because Sam was too hung over and I cannot run without him because he completes me.

Until tomorrow.

 

 

 

Day 9 – Winner takes it all – @amateuradam

Let me recap on the first week’s weigh-in results:

@themalenanny has gone from almost clinically underweight to actually clinically underweight. I’m not sure I can be seen to promote competitive anorexia, so won’t count him for the purposes of this post.

@DameDeborah and @RedEaredRabbit have maintained precisely the same weight, which seemed to fit with their half-arsed attempts.

@Biltawulf lost 4.8 pounds – showing a tedious level of commitment, discipline and restraint.

I lost 4 pounds having discovered the sweet spot of switching regularly between days of Ferrero Rocher, cheese and neat vodka.

This is clearly a two-horse race between me and @Biltawulf. Tomorrow morning I’m meeting @Biltawulf, and we will be going for a jog. What @Biltawulf doesn’t realise – or at least he doesn’t realise until he reads this – is I am bringing along an ampoule of Ghrelin to inject into his massive corpulent frame. Ghrelin – as you no doubt already know from Wikipedia – is the hormone that produces hunger.

You might argue this is some form of assault. You’d be wrong. Or maybe it is – fuck knows. Actually it probably is, yes. But in either case it will give me the leg-up I need. And if The Fat Duck is desperate enough for an antidote, he can buy 1mg of anti-Ghrelin from this website for only £2880.00 (includes £320.00 ‘web discount’).

I had another “Ferrero Rocher day” today. Unfortunately I’ve developed tolerance to the fuckers now and was able to stomach 20 of them today, bringing me in at 1380 calories, slightly over the magic 1200 calorie target. But I’m very much still the likely winner of Project Apollo.

Day 9 @RedEaredRabbit

Bollocks. I am not losing any weight. The Fat Duck has lost 2.2kg and somehow even ElephantineAdam, despite a diet that should probably have killed him by now has lost almost as much.

I woke up this morning and weighed myself. 89.5kg, the same weight I’ve been for a week. I set about focusing on doing a gargantuan poo, if I could just drop out 1.5kg I’d be back in the game.

After wiping my bum and washing my hands, I reweighed myself…. 89.6kg. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck! I had just done a poo weighing minus 100g.

My disappointment was twofold:

• I had put on even more weight
• I had just flushed away something that would probably have won me a Nobel Prize

At lunchtime a friend from work and I went out to get some lunch. He excitedly told me that a nearby Wild Bean Café had just turned into an M&S Simply Food so I headed over with him in search of tasty salad options.

Sadly it was the smallest M&S Simply Food that has ever crawled into existence. It was literally a couple of metres of M&S shelves in a petrol station that still had a Wild Bean Café and still had four aisles of crisps. I ate something from a Wild Bean Café once. It was an emergency but I immediately wished I had decided to starve to death instead. I am pretty sure that several years ago, in a plush BP board room, there was a meeting that went something like this:

We need to do something about the quality of our petrol station food. It is fucking gipping.

And then someone said:

Yes, I tried it once and I vomited up my entire digestive system. But what can we do?

And then someone else said:

We could get that trendy Naked Chef or that wrinkly Gordon Ramsay fellow and they could come in and make it all lovely and we could combine it with a reality TV show and it would be great!

And then the Head of Marketing said:

We could do that. Or we could rebrand the same shit we already sell with a name that will make people think it is high quality, natural, organic type food. We could then double the price and become rich.

And in that moment the Wild Bean Café was born and everyone in the meeting was so happy that they leaked a billion barrels of oil into the Gulf of Mexico in celebration.

I went back to the M&S bit. I had a look through the sandwiches and salads and the lowest calorie meal I could find was an Egg & Watercress sandwich at 350 calories. I took one of those and two bags of grapes at 80 calories per bag.

My sandwich looked like this:

Luncheon

It tasted of nigh on nothing though. How is it that if you make your own egg mayonnaise sandwich at home it tastes lovely and eggy but the shop-bought equivalent never tastes of anything? Do they do it intentionally? I would genuinely have no idea how to make egg mayonnaise that didn’t taste of egg – it is harder to do than to make it taste nice.

I also found that two bags of grapes was a bit too much and during the afternoon I became sick of eating them so I took a biro and made this:

My new friend

Then I tried to see if I could flick it off my desk into my empty tea cup but it went drastically wrong and I hit one of the new grads on the back and had to hide under my desk and whistle an innocent sounding tune.

To top today off, someone in the office bought giant, chocolate bat biscuits (that I obviously couldn’t eat) for Hallowe’en. You think being five days early is a little bit keen?

Check out the fucking sign they made:

RedEaredRabbit