Wednesday, February 20, 2008

It doesn't rain...

I can scarcely believe it, but this would hardly be "Aarayan's Blog of Woe" otherwise, but I've got a fecking throat infection. How? Why?! Have I not suffered enough?

Apparently not, so just to get this karmic imbalance sorted out once and for all, I've arranged to visit a bee colony at the weekend to be ritualistically stung by many thousands of insects until near death. I will then, without applying lotion of any sort, take myself to a sandpaper factory where I will submit to be dragged around on a giant sheet of sandpaper by 3 old, smelly tractors driven by perverted, gangrenous tory MPs with B.O and trench-mouth.

After this, I will watch 10 back-to-back episodes of Emmerdale, followed by a slap-up meal of raw liver and mashed maggots.

I think that should do the trick.

Especially since I intend to tip my karmic balance all the further into the shit by eating a dominos pizza *with* starter. And wine.

Mwahahahahahaha! Just try and stop me :)

Sunday, February 17, 2008

You can't win 'em all

Yesterday was fight 4, at the Ladykillers II show in Wythenshawe and before hand I wouldn't say I was confident as such, but I wasn't pessimistic either. I was more determined to do my best, and of course I didn't want to get my first loss.

However, there's a first time for everything and lose is precisely what I did do, in fairly spectacular fashion.

I was fighting a girl called Sarah McCarthy from Bad Company and she was just too good. Her clinch was excellent, I had no match for her knees and her boxing was very strong. The first right hand she landed did something very painful to my nose which, whilst not broken is sore, swollen and blocked. Her kicks weren't painful at least and, as usual, I've got no bruises whatsoever (apart from my nose and my eyes).

Round one she definitely dominated and it was quite a shock. I don't remember much apart from being put on my arse twice - once she caught my body kick and kicked out my standing leg (which was *my* plan - bugger) and I think the second time must have been in the clinch or something, but my bum ended up out of the ring between the ropes, which was dignified.

Her straight knees were epic - very strong, very Thai, very, very effective. I haven't stopped feeling like I'm going to vomit since then.

In the corner after round 1 Ally told me to keep busy, keep out of the clinch, box strong and body kick so I can out all guns blazing at the start of round 2 and landed 4 or 5 decent, unanswered shots. However, then she got me in the clinch and proper fucked me up, putting me back on my arse again at some point. In the last 10 seconds of round 2 she did.... something painful which got me my 3rd standing 8 count and when the ref asked me at the end if I wanted to continue, I said no thank you. I knew I couldn't win by this point unless I miraculously KOd her, and the chances were much stronger that she would KO me pretty quickly - every punch she threw sparkled me.

I can't pretend I'm not disappointed. I know there's no shame in losing to someone who's better than you, and no-one can win all the time, but the fact that I gave up doesn't sit well with me. It was the sensible decision, but I feel like a coward.

Paul says not to be a daftie, and referred me to the following video, which I watched in floods of tears whilst going "owwww!" because crying makes my nose sting:



However, he has a point.

Anyway, it's only 4 weeks until the next fight and I'll just keep training and try to put this behind me and learn from it as best I can. For now, however, it's beer time!

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Asthma is *so* last season.

I've decided I'm bored of asthma now, so that topic is finished. I don't want to get all drama-queeny and boring about it and, really, there's only so much to say.


Sooooooooo.... what's new with you?

What - nothing?


Fair enough - I'll tell you what's new with me instead, because it's my blog and I'll randomly change the subject if I want to.

Firstly, teaching.

Fucksake. Kids these days.

To cut a long story short, and save you from excessive woe, the job's been a nightmare. The staff have been great and how they drag themselves in day after day and maintain any semblance of positivity is beyond me. The only thing keeping me going is the knowledge I'm moving on somewhere hopefully more inspiring at the end of this academic year. The upshot of it all is that the appalling behaviour, constant abuse and aggro and high-stress levels have driven me to drugs, and not even fun ones: boring anti-depressants. They don't even make you hallucinate or anything. Boo.

Interview time is, however, upon us, so I'm trying to be positive. I've applied for 3 jobs so far at lovely, lovely schools with children who have a whole range of different issues, but who are at least not likely to swear at me, run away, throw furniture, threaten violence or damage property on a regular basis. I'm trying for optimism and have started putting together an interview outfit which is actually proving more stressful than the application process. Honestly, what a girl.


In other news it is only 4 meagre days until the fight. FOUR.

SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT.

Nah, it'll be fine. Honest. (shitshitshitshitshit...)

I've trained as hard as I can: running, swimming, cycling, sparring, double pads with Ally and Ann, and I've cut a ridiculous amount of weight, going from 70kg to 62.3kg in 7 weeks. I've got an entire cupboard full of treats for the weekend of the fight, but I'm not going to go crazy with the food, I've got a fight a month after this for a few months so I need to keep my weight stable and I have no desire to go through this stupid weight thing again.

That said, here's my list of yummy food I currently crave:

- Thai barbeque ribs and chicken wings
- Dominoes BBQ pizza
- Burger King Bacon double cheese burger
- Snickers bar
- Croissant with raspberry jam or nutella
- Galaxy chocolate of any variety
- Toasted bagel with cream cheese and crispy bacon
- Oodles of toast
- Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Therapy icecream
- Fish and Chips
- Roast chicken & chunky home made chips

But I promise not to actually eat all those things - the last thing I want to do is but 8 kilos back on again and have to lose it by the 15th March...


I'm pretty much organised for Saturday. I'll be out of school like a bat out of hell when the bell rings at 12.35 on Friday, up to the Commonwealth Pool for a sauna, down to Tollcross to get my hair braided, maybe a sneaky massage in Stockbridge and back home for a salt bath to get this last 2 kilos off. I've got my kit washed and ready and I've stocked up on ibuprofen, thai oil, baby oil and vaseline. I've decided what I'm eating before and after the fight and bought as much of it as I can, with a list of what else is needed and what needs to be packed in my bag on the day.

I'm excited but not scared, I think I can make a decent go of this fight and maybe layeth the smacketh down.


Now, because I'm an honest girl and I think this is pretty funny (and I finally told Paul, so I can tell you), I'm going to share with you an embarassing example of how much of an idiot I am.

John, chief instructor at the gym, suggested Ann and I go and get a tan. We're both very pale - Ann's allowed because she's Swedish, I'm just pale... because.

I wasn't going to bother because, frankly, it's ridiculous, but I was a bit miserable today so I thought "What the hell, why not, treat yourself."

So I did.

Now I have sunburnt boobs.



Idiot.



Thank you.

Thank you, lovely Asthma Nurse. Thank you for taking me seriously, thank you for seeing me at short notice, thank you for being concerned, and thank you for prescribing me a brown inhaler and telling me to come back ASAP if it gets any worse.

Thank you thank you thank you.

Dr Cock-Jockey could learn alot from you

Monday, February 11, 2008

As much use as a chocolate fish on a bicycle made of tea pots.

That's what my verdict is of my salbutamol inhaler so far.

Next?

Worst week ever?

Oh Lordy, troubles so hard.

It's been one of those weeks where the bad news just keeps on coming, really. All of it minor, but when you put it all together it makes for a sucky week, especially when you're fighting in a week.

Sunday - Couldn't train because I hurt my calf muscle
Monday - Still couldn't train because of the calf
Tuesday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Wednesday - Tooth got infected and had to be fixed - no training.
Thursday - Off work, still sick from the tooth, but managed a wee bit exercise
Friday - Back to training - Hurrah!
Saturday - Visiting granny. No training.
Sunday - Training, but not as much as usual. Diagnosed with asthma.

Harsh. Particularly the last one.

I've had the problem a few times that when I'm hitting the pads and I'm really pushing myself I get an audible wheeze and can't breathe - not like being out of breath, much worse. It's been happening more and more after first happening in October and last night I was still feeling tight in the chest so eventually I rang NHS24 and ended up with an appointment at the our of hours clinic.

Now, I've previously had an excellent experience of the out of hours clinic, when I got cellulitis last year, so it's a bit of a shame that I was seen by such an utter cock-jockey last night.

He diagnosed exercised-induced asthma with an oh-so-thorough examination. Involving listening to my lungs with a steth, ...., ...., ....., Oh. Yeah. That was all. he didn't do a peak flow, didn't take my blood pressure, take my pulse, even listen to my heart. He didn't even ask how I felt. He quite clearly desperately wanted to be somewhere else, and oh Lordy it showed.

Dr Cock-Jockey (as I fondly call him) prescribed a Salbutamol inhaler with the following stunningly helpful advice: "I don't know if it'll help, but it can't hurt. My advice would be to exercise less hard". When I explained I compete and I can't just stop if I'm tired, he said he didn't know what else to suggest. I asked him about preventative treatment and he denied any such thing existed when, clearly, it does. Here.

What a wank.

So, this morning I went to see my own G.P. armed with a wealth of information in the hope I'd get a more thorough diagnosis and treatment plan. She was much more helpful, (possibly partly because she had a student), and prescribed a peak flow meter to record how it changes when I've got the wheeze. She also confirmed that there are other drugs I can take if the salbutamol doesn't do the trick and recommended taking it 10 minutes before training as a preventative measure.

I must say, I'm rather chuffed with the Peak Flow thingy, because for a ridiculously competetive person like me, there is nothing like discovering your resting peak flow is off the chart :)

*smugsmugsmugsmugsmug*


Smug.

Friday, February 08, 2008

Thursday, February 07, 2008

It's all going a bit new-agey....

Something I've heard from aspirational types, (you know; life-coaches, people who used crystals for "healing" purposes, women with purple, tie-dyed t-shirts with pictures of dolphins on them) is that if you write down your goals you're more likely achieve them, because you're admitting them properly to yourself and making them more official in some way.

Well.

I have some goals for this year which I thought I'd share, and I know the old saying "I want doesn't get", but I don't care - this is what I want!:

Career

I want to apply only for jobs I really want.
I want to be offered an interview for every job I apply to.
I want to have a full-time, permanent post which I'm really happy about secured for August.
I want to be able to sleep on a Sunday night.


Fighting

I want to have at least 7 fights this year.
I want to win as many as possible convincingly and stylishly.
I want to win at least 1 of them by KO
I want a title. I know it's not likely, and certainly not this year, but I don't care, I want one.


Holidays

I want to spend 3 weeks training in Thailand and then fight there (and win)
I want to spend 2 weeks having a holiday in Thailand with Paul and not put loads of weight on
I want to go to New York with Paul for Christmas 2008
I want to spend more time with Paul and visiting my parents
I want to visit a spa.


Money

I want to be earning £25,000 or more.
I want to have a smaller mortgage
I want to have more disposable income
I want to sell the flat at Easter for at least £225,000
I want to find a nice, but not too expensive rental property which accepts pets to live in until we manage the next one...
I want to find and buy a little house with a garden and a garage to renovate and love and make a mint on


Appearance

I want to have a haircut and colour every 2 months
I want to have a wardrobe of clothes I like which fit
I want to start wearing makeup occasionally
I want to maintain a walking-around weight of 63kg all the time


Other Stuff

I want a kick bag to hang in my new garage (which I'm going to have)
I want to learn to drive


And I think that's about it.

Not asking for that much, am I?

Dentistry Disaster

Dentist: So, Aarayan... can you think of any trauma the tooth might have suffered? Hitting off a bottle? Suffering a blow to the jaw....?

Aarayan: A blow to the jaw... Well, I do get punched quite alot in the face.

Dentist: Can you think of any particular incident?

Aarayan: It's probably faster to think of the days I *don't* get punched in the face.

Dentist: Ah.


So. I've lost a filling from the side of my back molar at some point over the past couple of months and gradually, like a thief in the night, or a Rolls Royce driver in Sighthill, decay has snuck into the tooth and right the way down, down, down almost to my nerve.

On Monday my gum was a bit sore, on Tuesday by gum felt a bit sorer, by Wednesday 7 am my tooth was starting to ache and had turned grey. By 11 am I'd taken all the painkillers I could take without become the first accidental suicide victim in a Scottish school and had to admit defeat and go home until the dentist could see my at 4.30.

The journey home was a nightmare. Because the tooth in question is my back bottom molar, it's all too close to my glands and I very rapidly started to feel dizzy, sick and headachey but *just* made it home without vomiting all over a Lothian Bus. The punishment the driver would have inflected on me would have been epic. I got home and promptly fell asleep (after ringing Kal and saying "Am I dying? You're a more reliable opinion than NHS24!"

After taxi-ing it to the dentist 3 hours later I was numbed up, cleaned out and re-filled and told to come back on Friday to see if she'd got the decay in time. Because if not.....

ROOT CANAL!

Oh Fuck.

Today I am still off work sick because I'm sore, my head is pounding and I'm still feeling pretty sick, but I'm hopeful (?in denial?) that I wont need a root canal tomorrow.

No.

I'm not doing it.

Can't make me.

*sob*

Monday, February 04, 2008

Huzzah!

I finally made it down to 9 stone 13.6 yesterday morning (63.3kg), and Lo, yea verily did I do the happy dance. This morning I was a pound up, 10 stone 0.8 largely due to fluid and the like, so I'm not concerned, and my measurements put my body fat down to 20%, which is my lowest ever.

That means that this week I've lost another 4lbs (2kg), bringing me down from 11 stone (70kg) as I was at New Year at an average of about 3lbs per week.

Unfortunately I haven't been able to train for a couple of days because of a small injury, but I think a couple of days of rest, plenty of ibuprofen and hot and cold compresses will sort it right out.

Back to training tomorrow, I hope!

Saturday, February 02, 2008

Goodness me.

It's only 2 weeks now until the 1st fight of the year, and I'm starting to feel the pressure. I'm confident now that I'll make the weight - I was 10 stone 1.8 this morning (64.2kg), and despite the fact I didn't manage any extra cycling or swimming today because my calf muscle is very sore, I'm still expecting to lose a pound or so more by Monday.

Today's sparring was hard for me: it was my last sparring class before the fight, and I really wasn't on my game, which threw my confidence a bit. Thankfully, Ally's a star and sorted me out so by the end of the class I felt much better. I'm definitely nervous, I want to succeed and do my best, and not make an arsehole of myself and all those other things, but at least I feel I've done all I can do so far. I couldn't have dieted or trained any harder up to this point, so I can feel proud of myself for that, whatever else happens.

One more hard week of training, and calmer week to build my strength back up and it's fight day... 13 days and counting!