Thursday, August 5, 2010


This morning I was at the local cafe, waiting for my coffee to be brewed and idly flicking through The Australian Womens Weekly and half reading the "omigod we've got a female ginger Prime Minister. Rock the Girl Power! Whoo Yeah!" article. (Whoo yeahs may have been optional...)

The chair I was sitting in was a ... snug... fit for my behind. But I got into it, so I'll be fine. It seemed sturdy and wasn't giving out any alarming creaks or groans.

My coffee and bacon & egg roll was delivered to me and I went to stand, coffee in one hand, food in the other.

And the chair came with me.

The chair was stuck. On my arse.

I froze. What do I do? Naturally I can't walk off with the lovely cafe owners chair glued to my butt. I made a slight movement to put down my coffee so I could remove the chair when gravity helped out and the chair slid off my backside and hit the floor with a clunk that could be heard over cafe chatter and the coffee machine.

All eyes were on me. I walked from the cafe, my eyes down and my face burning red from embarrassment.

My Name is Jane D'oh and I say... the Fat Must Go!

This is my wild ride.. I'm going from Couch Potato to Fat Burning Machine. And you're all comin' with me.

1 comment:

  1. That kind of public embarrassment is a sure way to kick start a new groove, but that kind of fuel burns hot and fast.

    My advice: look at this as a lifetime journey and start instituting small changes you can (and will) live with.

    Blogging's always a great way to hold yourself accountable and tap into a world of support and encouragement.

    Best of luck to you.