MY 5-STEP PLAN TO BECOMING ELITE AND UNTOUCHABLE
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Alright, welcome back. Let's just get this out of the way – it's 6:20 p.m. on blog post day, and here I am, starting this masterpiece. I’ve left it to the last minute on this glorious public holiday (shoutout to King Whoever for pretending it’s your birthday – no, seriously, it’s not today, but I’ll take the free day off anyway).
This weekend has been one of reflection, as it often is after a birthday. You go through that inevitable cycle of existential dread where you realise you’re a year older but not an ounce wiser. My birthday was a blast, as I predicted in last week's blog, but I also had the inevitable birthday comedown – I have since been feeling like a bloated, cat-faced swamp creature.
Anyway, I’m back to making a plan. Yes, another one. I’m a planner. My Google calendar is a work of art that would intimidate any mere mortal. And while I’m a professional at scheduling every tiny detail of my day (yes, I block out time for waking up), the execution? Well, let’s say it leaves much to be desired. So, I’m hoping by writing this down for my loyal audience of approximately 17 people (shoutout to Ellen, Wren, Mark the Bass Man, Mum, Dad, and the owner of a cat named Dorian, I know you're reading this), I might actually follow through. Feel free to slap me on the wrist if I don’t. Just, do it gently or I may cry.
So, here’s my five-step plan to becoming the elite, untouchable version of myself that I know I can be:
ONE: HOT GIRL WALKS ON DAYS THAT END IN ‘Y’
Listen, I’ve figured it out. If I can get out of bed just a little earlier each day for a brisk walk around my neighbourhood, I’ll basically be on track to world domination. I’ve got a perfect 35-minute route – just long enough to listen to the Enhancer album by Northeast Party House. It’s goated for walking, if you're wondering. And yes, walking makes me feel like a hot, put-together queen, even if I’m just fake-smiling at the rich old ladies who haven’t worked since the early 2000s. Bonus: walking makes me hungry, which leads me to step two.
TWO: PUT THINGS IN MY GOB ;)
Since my gastric sleeve surgery in 2020, eating has been... challenging. Picture me staring blankly at my food, wondering if I have the energy to chew. But I need to fuel this elite brain of mine, so the plan is to come home from my hot girl walk and actually eat something. I’m aiming for eggs, porridge, or heck, even toast would be an upgrade at this point. It’s not about being perfect – it’s about being fed.
THREE: HIT THE GYM (AT LEAST ONCE)
Ah, the gym. We have a complicated relationship. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it, but mostly, it triggers my emetophobia because I have this irrational fear that someone’s going to vomit near the dumbbell rack. Weird, I know. Nevertheless, I’m determined to go at least once a week. No pressure, no ex-boyfriends breathing down my neck, trying to force me into the gym with the subtlety of a freight train. This time, it’s for me. Because I want to feel strong, sexy, and slightly less like I’ll be traumatised by free weights.
FOUR: DRINK WATER (AND GO TO BED)
Confession: I can’t remember the last time I drank a glass of water. I’m pretty sure I stay hydrated by accident – you know, when you rinse your mouth after brushing your teeth? Yeah, it’s bad. My poor stomach can’t handle water since the sleeve surgery, but I need to do better because the headaches, constant fatigue, and Patulous Eustachian tube (Google it) are getting old. Also, shoutout to my mate Brooksy, who won’t shut up about me getting more sleep. Fine, Brooksy. I’ll drink water and go to bed. I just want to be well-rested and moist, okay?
FIVE: BE FOOTLOOSE AND FANCY-FREE
This one’s simple: I need to stop overthinking every single thing in my life. Yes, I’ve been hurt. Yes, the fear of dying alone surrounded by cats is real. But sitting in my room, wallowing in self-pity, isn’t the solution. A year ago, I wouldn’t have gone out to a jam night alone if my housemate wasn’t coming with me. Now? I’m strolling into bars solo and having an absolute blast. More of this, please. I even hit the valley solo last night and didn’t feel anxious once. Sure, I didn’t find my husband, but I had fun, and that’s what matters, right? I’m also keen to do wholesome solo activities like going to the markets and buying bread or riding my bike. Just gotta push past the anxiety of hating my own company lol.
So, there you have it. My five-step plan to greatness. It sounds simple, but let’s be honest, I’ve been struggling to meet these goals for pretty much my whole life. But now, I’m focusing on myself – no more dating apps, no more Hungry Jacks instead of food at home, no more overthinking. I’ve got this. Fingers, toes, and everything else crossed!
Wishing you all an exceptional week, or perhaps just an average one. Average is perfectly fine.
Song recommendation of the week: ‘Right Through You’ by Alanis Morrissette
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