Running? Meh!

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Ugh.  Two people, on the same day said to me 'I'm going to do the couch to 5K, you are going to do it too!"    Two of them!  How unlucky is that?

One of them, who shall be named Linda, agreed to meet at 7.15 but couldn't meet until 8.45 (at which point I was lying on the floor crying) so myself and Clo went without her.  Holy Jesus but I forgot how much I hate running.  Which is funny because I actually used to enjoy it.  Maybe it was because it was dark and cold and late and . . . any excuse will do. 

I just texted both of them to see if we had to run tonight as it's raining.  I was told by one "You live in Ireland, get used to it" and by the other "think skinny thoughts".  I told both of them to fuck off.  

I want to be thin, to the extent that I am having potato and celeriac soup whilst the kids have sausage sambos for lunch but I don't want to run.  I don't want to run in the rain either.

Clo kind've skips along.  Nervously after a while as I sound very threatening, plodding along behind, panting and doing my best Darth Vader impression,  Ugh.

Mind you, at least I can run without peeing, eh Linda?  

"Bollox!!" At least, that's what I SHOULD have said.

Jesus.

A couple of weeks back I was working with a friend of mine in Guinness.  We were doing some flower arrangement type things and Gill thought I'd be good to do it with her.  I went to her house early to get it all together, she made a fantastic lunch out of nothing and we had a fun day making flowers look pretty in Guinness.  The fact that the escalators only go UP and NOT DOWN wasn't initially a problem but . . . I had vertigo that week and . . . not great. Glass elevators are not pleasant.  Not pleasant at all.  My parallel parking, however, is fantastic when I have vertigo but I have no idea why.

A couple of days after that day I decided that myself and Himself should have a similar lunch and went to Superquinn to recreate it.  I was standing by the cheese counter when the following, er, conversation took place:

Him.  Harumph, pah, special offer, grumble, give out, moan.

Me.  What's wrong?

Him.  This cheese is meant to be on special offer.  But it's obviously not as it's 4 something for a tiny triangle.

Me.  It must be very nice then.

Him.  It is very nice.  Very nice indeed.  You wouldn't be able for it though.

Me.  Sorry?  Me not able for cheese???

Him.  Yes.  This cheese is very fattening and you, looong pause to look me up and down, are fat enough!

Me.  Nervous giggle, pat on the back for your man and exit stage left.  Whereupon I hid in cornflakes and cursed the fucker in and out of hell several times.

Bastard.  That was four weeks ago and I'm still pissed off that I'm too fat for fucking cheese.  Please?!