Winky trauma! What.... the.....?

Nobody told me about that. That freaked me the fuck right out that did.

Anybody who's been paying attention to my rambling either on here (and judgin by the page views, that's not much) or in real life will know I got tired of being the fattest gnome in Scotland after TITP and decided to lose a stone. Well, last week I stepped up my effort a bit after having my BMI and body fat measured.... my BMI was fine, I was spot on. But my body fat %? Well..... it wasn't good. Leave it at that. It can't be right that I'm the right weight for my height but my fat content qualifies me as (overweight) by american standards (the first website I looked up said I was obese! OBESE! Now I know I like a pizza, but that's a bit much. By the american athletic association standards I'm 1.5% into the overweight range. Which is better, at least.) So I decided that cutting out half of the shit I eat isn't enough, I'm actually gonna have to exercise. So, for a week now (apart from yesterday and sunday, when I was incapacitated with a mystery illness..... sore head, feeling sick, whatever could have caused it I do not know) I've been hitting the old bike hard (pffft, steady.....) and doing half an hour a day. Started off getting just over 8 miles done in that time, but tonight I managed over 9.

Now. I'm not one to shy away from embarrassing things. Whatever it might be that happens to me, I am unable to keep embarrassing things to myself. And this is no different. So there I was, fresh off the old exersize bike having tanked 9.13 miles out in half an hour, sweating like Harold Shipman at a Darby and Joan dance, when I wander over and sit on my PC chair to switch off the tunes before I jump in the shower. And I noticed an..... odd feeling.

I thought the old pork swordsman had become caught between my shorts and my leg. A quick glance down and nope, there's no helmet visible, so I reasoned he must be caught in the waistband. No. So I had a quick shufty down the old shorts.

THE BLOODY THING WAS SHRIVELLED UP LIKE A RAISIN!

Now, at the best of times it's hardly going to block out the neighbours sunlight, but for a second I thought my single barrelled pump-action porrige gun had fallen off!

Fear not, ladies. It's back to it's collossal norm now *cough* but if that's what it takes to get fit, I think I'll stick to 8 miles a day. Next time it might not come back out!

I can only assume my body needed the blood elsewhere.

Anyway. What? Me? Embarrassed? Noooooo not for years! Oh, if you're wondering, it's working. Half a stone gone in 3 weeks. (It's the other stones I'm worried about) Another 3 and I should once again be lean and sleek like some kind of sexy panther.

I know, you can't polish a turd. But you can try.