February 27. I’m not taking the blame

Australia you fucked me up. I went back over at Christmas with the best intentions but was corrupted within hours of landing. I was prepared ; I took a surfboard , running shoes and workout attire . I knew I had to counteract the oncoming avalanche of festive consumption . I pep talked myself , don’t bring undone the good work , keep disciplined and you’ll go back to LA close to the condition you left in. I knew I was probably kidding myself but still I was intent on limiting the damage . 3 days in I had drank in access of a slab , knocked over fish’n’ chips , a half dozen sandwiches ( sugar free bread ) , a couple of blocks of cheese,4 takeaway coffees ( the best ) , charcoal chicken and chips , lamb chops , salt and vinegar chips and a couple of blocks of Cadbury chocolate . I hadn’t even put the runners on. It’s still 4 days before Christmas . By New Years I’m cooked and 4kgs up , I’ve ran twice and the surf has shown up twice ( of course) . By the time we are back in LA on the 6th of January depression has set in . There’s only one thing to do … drown the sorrows and immerse ones self in the smorgasbord of local beers and burgers ………10 days have passed and the road to redemption has started , running , surfing , walking ,but of course there’s a dark cloud hovering. Everyone’s going down sick with the flu , and inevitably it strikes. At 1st it’s the dry throat , then the tightening ache at the side of the head .You know it’s got hold of you but you stay firm , I’m not getting sick , it’s not happening to me . As as man we know we are not allowed to say we’ve got a cold , our wives won’t recognise it , it’s just a male myth. Emma reckons you catch a cold by admitting it . She says it’s the power of attraction and only applies to men. She doesn’t get sick , ……… she only gets really sick and that’s what women have to cope with . So even though I felt shit for 2 weeks I had nothing ….. Emma on the other hand got the flu. 3 weeks have passed and I’m over it and the exercise regime starts up again , minus the surf ( that’s a depressing story of flatness) . I’m off on a run and feel unusually sore in the hammy and then the calf ….. “Howie you’re not gonna stop you fat fuck , keep going .” .. Shit the legs gonna go , I can feel it . I slow down , but as I go around a group of women I’m forced to jump over a dog shit . Bang! I’ve strained my calf . The worse part was I hobbled for another 30 m until I got around the corner so as the women I just passed wouldn’t twig on what had just happened . I just hoped that the laughter I heard in the background was just coincidence.The body is telling me something : if you’re 48 and put 5kg on in 3 weeks it ain’t coming off in 3 weeks , champ . It’s near the end of February and finally there’s the odd wave , on my 2nd wave back in 6 weeks Christmas karma strikes for the 3rd time …. I strain my back . By the time I mope back to the car I can barely get my wetsuit off or get my fat head into the car . I just had my haircut and I reckon that takes a kilo off , but when I look at my slumped shoulders and wet head in the car window all I can see is 3 chins and and a face like a pug . I can’t hold my gut in as that will put my back into spasm . I think I wanna cry . Am I ever gonna get back or is this what happens when you’re nearly ……..fif** , I can’t say it . …. 8 weeks have past , I might have dropped 1.5 kilos , had a flu , popped a calf , put my back out ,but that was still the best Holliday and fuck it , I ‘l get that weight off …… by next year .