On Your Bike!

Thanks once again for voting in your hundreds.

I realised a few weeks ago that I needed to do something about my expanding waist line. It was an emotional day for me, and I'll take you back to that day and fill you in on exactly what happened.

It was an unusually warm, Spring like day so my wife and I decided to go for a little walk. We dusted down our walking boots, popped on a light sweater and set about our morning trot.

We have a park a few minutes walk from us, which leads onto some woods and eventually some rather nice fields. Being a City worker, I see these big square green things about once a year, and even then it's on John Craven's Country File. It was wonderful and just as I made my way over a sty I paused for a moment. I could see the bluebells were just starting to sprout through in the late morning sunlight, the light was flickering with the shadows of the trees, there was a faint smell of manure in the air and just the faint sound of jeans ripping from crotch to crack.

My trusted jeans had decided to split under the pressure, leaving a fresh feeling in more than my head. I was devastated. Not so much for the Jeans, but because the purpose of the walk was to get to the nice country pub the other side of the woods, a pub which would now be two guests light for Sunday lunch

Once home, I realised that these were my last pair of presentable jeans. That is Jeans that I can realistically be seen in public with. I spent the afternoon going from shop to shop in a pointless search for a new pair of J.T.I.C.R.B.S.I.P.W

Now comes the embarrassing bit. None of the High Street chains seemed to stock my size. Ouch! Not possible I thought, there must be a mistake. Maybe there was a sale on and my size was really popular. Maybe everyone my size went for a walk in the country and came unstuck in a similar way?

No!

My size is seen as a "Special Size" and they only "Get a few in" as they find them "Difficult to shift"

Then it dawned on me. Those words uttered by the 15 year old sales girl are the exact reason I am in this situation. Too often I'm getting the "Special Size" meal. Too often I "get a few in" down the pub. It is this exact reason I find weight so "difficult to shift"

Don't get me wrong, I'm not close to keeling over, but my size 40 waist was clearly a problem and so I decided to start getting fit.

Since that day I have been on a healthy eating kick and I asked you guys whether I should buy a bike or join a gym. Well, the bike won and on Saturday I purchased the said bike (Pictured)

I'm pleased to announce that since that day a few weeks ago, and with the help of my new bike, I have managed to shift 21 lbs (That's a stone and a half, and just under 10 kilo's in new money)

Thanks once again decision makers. Keep up the good work

Didn't see a Ting!

The reason I started this project was to see if, by leaving the decision making to the general public, I could become a happier person. To re-cap, I hate decision making. The very thought of it brings me out in a cold sweat. I think it's mainly down to the fact that I have to live by the cosequences and I can't get over the "what if" feeling; but in truth, I don't know the exact reason and it would probably take at least six sessions with a special doctor to find out.

Only two decisions in and I was starting to doubt the success of the project. I really fancied going to the cinema but couldn't decide what to watch. The Decidees came good and chose a popular film, so popular in fact, I couldn't get to see it. I did however take solace in the fact that it had saved me money.

Then came the decision to go and see the Ting Ting's and initially I felt spirited. I would never have actually gone out and bought tickets and I still needed the help of my decision makers, but here I was facing a genuine fear of mine and feeling upbeat about it. I hate crowded places, especially places with queue's. So, after two hours standing outside in a crowdy place, queuing, they finally told us the gig had been cancelled. I was so annoyed, partly because the 12 year old girl standing behind me had insisted I wear her luminous headband, but mostly because another decision in which I had no input had resulted in dissapointment. At least the Cinema meant I saved money. . . these tickets were free! The photo to the left tells it all. Fed up people in a queue, and Brixton council had the foresight to predict the delays. Cheers

I was soon cheered when I walked back round towards Brixton station and heard the unmistakable cry of the ticket touts going about their business. Clearly no-one had told them of the cancellation, and presumably had kept quiet, just for a laugh. I would have sold them my ticket, only it wasn't mine, and apparently my friend still needed it so that he could claim the money back online. What made it funnier was that the touts had a rediculously hard tongue twister to contend with. Normally you hear them shouting "England Tickets, anyone buying or selling England Tickets" but this time they were met with "Cheap Tickets to the Ting Ting's" Say it fast and you'll know what I mean. The stairs to the tube were awash with cockney saliva so I decided to go to the pub instead. I'm sincerely sorry to have made that decision without you, but frankly, with your track record at the moment, I'm glad.

Thanks for Voting, Now look what you've done!

Thanks to everyone who voted, the answer was yes, I Should go to the gig on Friday night.

Immediately it has filled me with dread. The last time I went to a gig, I was 20 and in my humble opinion I was fairly hip. I knew how to act and what to wear in order to fit in with others. I was, for want of a better word, invisible. I wasn't fat, I wasn't thin, I wasn't too old, I wasn't too young, I wasn't a goth, I wasn't on Drug's and thank god, I wasn't a Student

I was dragged to see Toploader play at Exeter university with my then Girlfriend (Who unfortunately was a student) I vowed after 3 hours of what I can only describe as a Noisy Student Bar, that I would never go to a gig again. It just isn't me. I feel akward just being there. I never learn the words of songs, so am not compelled to stand there and sing along, I can't dance and throughout the performance I get this compelling urge to ask them to turn it down a bit. On a slight digression, why do people go to gigs and spend the whole time shouting the lyrics back at the band? Firstly, I'm sure they are aware of them, they wrote them. Secondly, you can do that at home to the CD, why pay £40 for the priveledge?

So, after finding out that my self imposed life ban has been lifted, I decided that I would go clothes shopping to help me become "Invisible" again

I've no idea what people wear to gigs these days, but I'm pretty sure it's not a nice pair of slacks and a Ben Sherman shirt (Loosened at the collar) so I decided the easiest thing was to buy a pair of comfortable Brown trainers and a couple of new T-Shirts. These will go nicely with a pair of Jeans and Abra Cadabra, Invisibility! They are also cheap. £20 for the trainers and £25 for the T-Shirts!

Well, plainly, I look rediculous.

It's the day of the gig, and unfortunately I've an Eight hour day shift to put in. Luckily, my place of work is one of the only companies that allow casual dress on a Friday. Great I thought, lets try the new look out on my colleagues first!

I strode confidently out of my front door and towards my local train station and my first mistake hit me, with considerable pain after about 200 yards. My new "Comfortable" trainers, turned out not to be comfortable at all (That's them on the left). In fact, they were quite the opposite. They were systematically slicing my heels apart, one step at a time. Another 100 yards and my toes were ready to fall off. I was at the point of no return and somehow got through the pain and managed to catch my train. This wasn't the end of my pain however, as this is just the local train which serves the main station.

During my journey I cursed myself for being a man. If I had been a woman, I would not have been swayed by price and bought the cheapest pair. I'd have also tried them on, I'm sure of that. Instead, I employed the three P's. I Picked them, Purchased them and Pissed Off. My punishment for buying like a man, is to suffer like a woman. I'll never curse at my wife for complaining that her shoes hurt her ever again

Finally, I made my stop in London and collapsed in a heap. I still had half a mile or so to cover to get to work. I was just about to go for it when I realised that "Shit!, I've got to go to a gig in these tonight!" The pain had eroded the Long Play button in my brain, and I was clearly working on the here and now. I was in survival mode. Once the weight was off my feet the full horror had dawned on me. I decided the only thing for it was to get another pair of trainers. The only shop in the Financial District where I can buy "Hip" trainers (By hip I mean normal, and not winkle pickers from Saville Row) is Next. They had one pair that was suitable for £45, and luckily they were in stock. I immediately put them on (Pictured below), and placed the Heel Shredders into the box.

After about 100 yards the pain set in again, and I put this down to the damage that had already been done. I decided that the best thing to do was to buy some new socks, as the pair I had on were particularly thin. M&S was close by so I popped in. I'm a sucker for a deal, so I got the 7 pair pack for £10, rather than the 3 pairs for £6 pack. The guy at the till informed me that the socks were on offer and I could get another pack of 7 for half price. I've now got 14 pairs of socks which, if I am brutally honest, I don't need. I just need the one pair right now. Still, socks keep don't they. Worst case scenario, I can give a pack away as a christmas present and get my own back on my brother. After another 100 yards, the pain was again unbearable. I decided to pop into Tesco Express to get some plasters, which set me back another £4

So, my cheap trainers costing £20 have now cost me £84 and I'm still in agony! Really looking forward to this gig now, thanks everyone!