Sooooo.... gym last night, first time for two weeks. I would just like to say: 144lbs!!!. WOOHOO!! I'm getting there - 4lbs to go!! Four little pounds and I'm 10st! Four more pounds and lardy Laura will be replaced by still-kinda-lardy-but-nowhere-near-as-lardy-as-last-year Laura. Go me!

Circuits was tough, though. See, the class is 1 hour of cardio and weights, with a slant towards boxing, so we do a lot of shoulder / arm work. Last night, Theo (the instructor) must have been watching Jackie Chan movies, because he got us doing kicks as well as punches. As I launched into my third eight-rep set of roundhouse kicks, I felt something wrench in my knee and though "Damn, that's gonna hurt in the morning".

Amazingly, it doesn't. Yet. I fully expect to try to get up from my chair mid-afternoon, and find that I can't.

After my workout, C met me at the gym and we walked home - about two and a half miles. By the time we reached my flat my legs felt like they were on fire.

I'm quite pleased with how I look now. I don't have a full-length mirror at home, so I rarely get to see how all of me looks, but at the gym I spent a bit of time appreciating my arms. I used to have huge, flabby, "batwing" arms; now, they're still on the large size, but not flabby. I feel completely confident about wearing a strappy dress next Friday (I wouldn't have done a few months ago).

I still have the "Family Gut" though; but then my sister still has hers, and she goes to aerobics six times a week and eats nothing but noodles and boiled veg. I think I can safely assume the gut's with me for life. I can learn to love it, I think.

Anyway, enough of my narcissism...

C was very down on the way home from the gym. The freelancing thing isn't working out, and he's having trouble finding a job in London. He's tried approaching temp agencies to keep him going in the meantime, but so far they've all said they're oversubscribed. I find it daft that someone with his qualifications and experience can't get work... I think it's for the best that we start sharing my flat (in April), especially if he's going to have so much trouble getting a regular income. I'm not sure what to do: I don't want to nag him about finding a job, because I feel it's not my business to. It's just depressing and scary. My worst nightmare is that he has to "give up" and go back to Scotland and live with his parents; or that the whole reason this has happened is because of me (but then, his company would have gone under whether he met me or not, so that's stupid).

I guess I'm just so used to being responsible for myself that I'm finding it hard to wrap my head around giving support to another person. I want to support him, but on the other hand I don't want to keep pressuring him to "go get a job". I'm not his wife (she's 400 miles away, LOL).

Heh, a small upside is that my mum has shut up with the "Shall I buy a hat?" questions. I guess she doesn't want her daughter marrying someone who doesn't have a regular job ;-)

*sigh*

Jobhunting, when you don't have a job and need one urgently, sucks.

Anyhow, I have just had a load of work dumped on my desk. Oooh, they're screwed when I leave, I tell ya!