You totes thought I had forgotten about being a moaning b**ch every Monday right? Well no, unfortunately the taste of halitosis combined with double shot espresso greeting me across my daily catch up of Perez Hilton (.com) is still, somehow, so much worse on this particular day of the week. So, instead of being a normal human and just instagraming a hilarious (or not) quote about how much I miss the weekend, I will write an exceptionally long posts about how much better my life would be if I had [insert materialistic item of awesomeness here]. Oh, and I also do the Instagram thing too. Duh.

This Monday my list is pretty long. Considering I’m professionally trained and paid to be an “editor”, when it comes to culling down the list of things I want right now I would be better labeled a “inability to prioritise-r” or maybe even “demanding”. (Who me?! Never). It goes a little something like this…


A Normal Right Leg. Can someone please fix my knee? Seriously. Not only does it hurt like hell when I both bend AND straighten it, it has rendered me unable to do exercise (but, oddly, not unable to eat large quantities), but MOST importantly, it has swollen up to the point that I can’t fit in my new pineapple skinny jeans. So I need that to not be happening.


A Wallet. More specifically, this wallet. Preferably with large wads of cash in it. The truth is, three weeks down and my coin purse (that was oh-so sweet and handy through out Asia) is now stuffed with one and two pence pieces (grumble, grumble, pointless ruddy coins, grumble), half filled coffee cards from Pret, and receipts (that I’m attempting to keep so I can start budgeting – ha). This bright, happy-making number has space for all those cards, a coin compartment, it opens out to fit all my pesky receipts (and large wads of cash), whilst being bright enough to spot in the bottom of your bag AND small enough to pop in your fave clutch when you head out for a drink. It’s totally more of a necessity than a want. Totally. (Stop rolling your eyes mum.)


All Ruby Everything. I always talk about my love for this incredible kiwi brand, Ruby. It must be so boring for you. Because I actually have a super international readership (hey all you lovelies from all over the world) and you know what? It’s hella expensive to get Ruby shipped to anywhere but NZ. I know because I’ve looked. I’ve looked, I’ve weighed up the options, and I’ve decided its worth it. (Then I put down my wine glass and went to bed). No, but in all seriousness I miss this brand a lot; the quality is great, it fits me perfectly, I love the current collection and I seriously love the next collection. I’m pretty bloody upset that I no longer live nearby. Can someone please send me this? Oh and this? Maybe these too? Hell, just one of everything. (Told you I was grand and this “editing” business).


The Petite Kitchen Cookbook by Eleanor Ozich. This girl is incredible. She’s a blogger who turned to wholefoods and general clean eating to help her daughter (who suffers from Gut and Psychology Syndrome, read her story here). She also went to my high school and I still get this weird how-can-someone-who-sat-opposite-me-in-maths-be-doing-so-freaking-well-at-life feeling every time I look at one of her recipes. Eleanor is one of the original inspirations behind the way I (try) and eat and I think her recipes are wonderfully simple, easy to achieve and always scrumptious. When the boy and I score a cute little London pad (cough, cough), the first thing heading to my kitchen will be this book. (Well, actually it will probably be boring crap like knives and forks… but you know… this is a close second).

I will stop now, even though I could go on forever. I’m starting to feel like I’m writing a letter to Father Christmas, and if I go any further with this fantasy I might start expecting things under the tree.

I’m pretty sure I’ve been a good girl this year Saint Nicholas, so please cure my Monday morning blues and…. give me all of the cool stuffs. Ta.



Icy mornings, bung knees and strokes. Lots of strokes.


I once heard someone say “as long as you actually get moving, it doesn’t matter what you wear. Exercise, and all its benefits, can be achieved as long as you just go and do it”.

Well kids, that person was a big ol’ liar. For the last two weeks (since arriving in the UK) I’ve been trying (important word that, trying) to get back to my previous fitness level. With another half marathon to work towards, I’ve been strapping on trainers and heading out into the FREEZING London streets as many mornings as I can muster the courage (not many).

I’m pretty sure it’s the eight weeks of doing very little and the sharp change in temperature from my normal training that’s contributing to my… well.. diabolical running ability. But I also think that it’s because I’m in all the wrong gear.

You’ve heard me harp on about my love affair with Skechers. The GoRun is just a perfect match for me (and probably you too – seriously, give it a go). You can read my in-depth reviews/love letters here and here (I’m smitten). Unfortunately, with the boy watching over (aka lording over) my packing for our South East Asian adventures, they didn’t make the cut. A 10 year old, overused and muddy pair of Nikes did. With the convincing reasoning behind the boy removing my fave trainers from my pack being that “I wouldn’t mind if the others got lost/dirty”. All through our intrepid journey, the boy was right. But now I am here, and my runners aren’t, I’m in huge distress.


Two weeks of shockingly mediocre runs with bad shoes (featuring none of the right support), and my knee has actually given in, I’ve strained my ITB (google it, its far too boring for me to explain here) and I am now BED RIDDEN*.

Luckily, my one true loves are slowly making their way to me via a shipping container full of other stuff that we deemed important enough to send to the other side of the world. I imagine (upon arrival) I will probably look at the painstakingly selected items in disgust, questioning why on earth I chose to spend actual money, time and energy sending it… all except my beautiful Skechers. I will caress them. Cuddle them. Love them. And yes, I will prob even give them a little stroke. (Stop judging me).

I’m pretty sure, once reunited with my GoRuns, I will be able to whiz through my training. Right? Yeah. Its definitely the shoes and not my lazy butt. For sure.


*Okay, so I’m not ACTUALLY bed ridden. But walking is tough, going up stairs is tougher and if I want to get any sympathy (and maybe breakfast in bed) from the boy I have to say things like “bed ridden”. Ok? Cool. Glad we’re on the same page.


Wet therapy, tiny spaces and the worlds least active human.


My family and friends are still in disbelief that I actually write a blog with an element of exercise to it. I’ve gone from being the worlds least active human (when I was a teenager) to being addicted to running, boot camps, bikram and anything else that likely to make me sweaty (get your mind out of the gutter). I completely love it all. Exercise not only plays a role in my physical wellbeing, but a huge role in my mental wellbeing. It’s like therapy (wet therapy). So, traveling around, going from backpackers to small hotel rooms, has left me without my usual variety of incredible running and workout back drops! But I would never let that stop me – no, no, no.

I created myself a series of ‘small place friendly’ workouts before I headed off. So, if you find yourself in a tight spot – here are a couple of workouts to help you keep moving.

Indoor Cardio Booster

Cardio can be one of the hardest things to tackle in a small space. When there isn’t a gym full of treadmills or a vast open space to run around, people tend to just skip the heart rate rising cardio set. But you don’t have to! Try this workout… the key is to do each round as fast as you can and only rest when indicated. If you are competitive (like me) time yourself and try and beat yourself each round.

  • 10 x burpees
  • 10 x star jumps
  • 10 x mountain climbers
  • 10 x high jumps


  • 25 x burpees
  • 25 x star jumps
  • 25 x mountain climbers
  • 25 x high jumps


(Repeat both sets again, then follow with a nice stretch out.)


Body Weight Strength Session: 10 to 1

Mix up that awesome cardio set with some strength training on alternate days. Don’t worry, no dumbbells needed… just you and your body. This one is super easy to change up depending on what you want to do. Fancy a full on leg day? Why not do squat jumps and lunges or kick backs and side raisers. Abs need a workout? Give v-sits and leg lowers a trial. Play around with it and have fun (very sweaty painful fun).

  • 10 squats – 1 push up
  • 9 squats – 2 push ups
  • 8 squats – 3 push ups
  • 7 squats – 4 push ups
  • 6 squats – 5 push ups
  • 5 squats – 6 push ups
  • 4 squats – 7 push ups
  • 3 squats – 8 push ups
  • 2 squats – 9 push ups
  • 1 squat – 10 push ups

To add an element of cardio, inbetween each set either sprint the length of your hotel room (if its long-ish) or do 10 x star jumps.

(Finish up with a nice stretch out.)

Top Travel Tip: One thing I made sure I found a wee bit of space for in my pack was a skipping rope. It’s not huge, it packs up small and its a great one for getting that heart rate up! Either break up one of the above work outs with 20 second skipping bursts or just go hard out for as long as you can – just you and your jump rope.


One foot in front of another (then an arm, elbow and thigh), aka serious running fail.


Running and I haven’t been the best of friends this last few weeks. 

A month or so ago I started following fit_trio on Instagram. I’m pretty sure the boy thinks I’m having a full blown affair with this woman abs. I mean have you seen them? They are better than Ryan Gosling’s face. (Yeah, I said it.) After asking the fit-spiration account how exactly she got the way she did… among other things it turns out she runs… a lot (think everyday for like an hour). Now, I don’t have time for stuff like that. BUT, in a effort to get my mid section more like the above and less like I had too much lunch (even though I probably did), I decided to commit to between 20-30 minutes of running every other day. It seemed reasonable, and when I was training for the half I was doing way more than that.

RunningFail2 RunningFail3 RunningFail4 RunningFail5

Mostly I’ve stuck to it (read: mostly). Unfortunately running and me don’t seem to be the friends we used to be. Between bouts of sunstroke, sun burn (damn sun), dehydration and near misses with cars, no pavement pound has been easy (or particularly fun). Then, as the cherry on top of my paleo ice cream, on Saturday I had an epic fall. Think (literally) somersaulting down a main street. It left me with huge (super attractive) bruising and grazes down my entire left side. I may have to crack out the Thin Lizzy for my upcoming leaving do.

Basically it’s being really hard to get out the door. Each day, if the hot and muggy weather doesn’t hold me back, the fear of tripping over my own feet does. So blogosphere, I put this out to you – how the hell do you muster motivation? Because I need me some.

Like right now.




Having been out of the nine to five loop for exactly a week now, not only have my good intensions of running, keeping the house in tip top shape and having a home cooked (dare I say, paleo) dinner on the table for the boy each night, gone out the window… but so too have days of the week. They are all melting into one big pot of numbers. Weeks, days, hours and minutes that we have left to do all the things that need to be done (all the many, many things). So today is not Monday, nope, today is twenty two. Twenty two days (or 528 hours, or 31,680 minutes if you’re feeling really crazy) before I am standing at the departure gates of Auckland airport – totally shitting myself.

Now, for most, that might feel like ample time. I had a friend who moved to Europe on 6 weeks notice and worked right up until the day she left (yes, yes she is a little bit cray-cray). Well, ladies and gents, if you have ever met my mother (which I know most of you haven’t, but pretend you have for me) you will know that isn’t me. I am destined to be an organiser. As much as I kick, scream and stick my heels in, it will inevitably happen (as will saying “scissors always satisfy”, a family trait it seems – and a very true fact).

And, in line with my inherited organisation comes my absolute need to document things. I have special books dedicated to lists of specific kinds (think, “travel related to-dos” book and a “supermarket shopping list” book, oh and don’t forget my “daily to-do breakdown” book – which is different to my diary, but I do also have a diary). So when I stumbled across this little gem on the interwebs I knew somehow, sometime, someday it HAD to have it in my life.


Now, before you start (boy, I am talking to you), I know I have the Fitbit app, and My Fitness Pal and roughly 84 other fitness trackers on my phone, but this one is different (I promise*). Look at those real life pages. Those weekly plans, and that ability to list, list and list some more. It’s like fitness meets food meets organisation (all it needs is a section to plan what to wear each day, and this book would be like my own personal 50 Shades Of Grey).


The fitbook basically a nifty number that breakdowns a 12 week nutrition and exercise plan. You keep it with you when you are heading to the gym or to the kitchen and you keep track of exactly what you do. From my past experiences with food/diet related tracking, although tough, it is actually one of the best ways to keep on track (well duh). There is nothing more powerful to keep you away from that midnight temptation (aka Percy Pigs and/or, no wait just and, chocolate) than the thought that you actually have to admit it and add the calories into your diet plan, to make you stop, think and walk away. Food diaries and exercise logs not only help us to set goals, I’m a firm believer that they (in a silent, notebookey type way) support us. Any mistakes made will glare at us on the page (so no we can’t forget that sneaky TimTam or 10), but so do our results.


So, if your Monday morning has you frowning at the idea of any form of movement past that short hike to the coffee shop for a latte and a cronut, maybe a fitbook will help? (After the pastries – of course.)

They even sell this incredible pack that comes with scales (for both you AND your food), body fat callipers, tape measure, the fit book and a pen so you literally have everything you need.

I’m pretty sure, hands down, if I had this in my life I would reach every and any fitness goal anyone has ever had. Ever.

Or, at least I would right them all down, and thats half the battle right?

*No I don’t, its the same. I will most likely diligently write in it for a week then put it down somewhere are forget it exists. But damn it  – for that week I will be incredible.

Fitbook5 Fitbook6

Sweat, Disney Princesses, oh and more sweat.


I went for a run the other day and despite being outside for a mere 30 minutes (of complete hell) I got insanely dehydrated, sunstroke and some pretty unattractive tan lines where my vaccination plasters were*.

Thats right, the weather was so freaking sweltering that what should have been an enjoyable casual run turned into a round of Bikram sprint training (or at least it felt like it).

So, when the world has decided to channel its inner sauna, but you still want to keep up with those fitness goals, what should you wear?

My hot picks would have to be the following…

When you’re feeling brave, I would definitely opt for shorts. I know some people kid themselves that they “don’t look good in shorts”, but com’n people, if you are running, and you are hot, you’ve earn the damn right to wear shorts – no matter what they look like on you! (Plus, they look good anyway. You go girl. Believe me, not one single person is looking at you and thinking you shouldn’t be wearing them.) These Stella for Adidas pair are my go-to (in my head, because I don’t actually own them, but if I did, I would go-to them heaps).


If that fails and you are too self conscious to actually wear less clothing, I always follow the rule that if you look good, you feel good. (But I would, because I work in fashion and if I don’t tell you that then a small part of Karl Largerfeld dies.) So, opting for stylish pieces will actually make you feel better about your run, like these monochromatic print (that are oh-so on trend). Try going for some leggings with mesh details to add air flow, and singlets that are looser to avoid that gross fabric-sticking-to-me-because-i’m-way-too-sweaty feeling.


More importantly than any of that though, is water. Drink water. All the water.

Oh, and take off your plasters.

What I was in fact wearing was a pair of full length leggings (I don’t know what I was thinking) and a ratty old company T-shirt. However, if I had been wearing any of the above I probably would have run harder, faster and enjoyed it way more.

No, you’re right, I probably wouldn’t have. But at least I would have been a bit cooler (both meanings of the world apply here).

*The really embarrassing thing is, that isn’t even the first time I’ve had plaster-tan. Nope. The evil Disney Princess plaster (they were cheap ok) I was wearing a few months back left me with a huge white mark right on my knew all through the gorgeous summer beach weather – fail!

Cuppas, confusion and Miranda’s ankles.


I was recently having a cuppa with a friend of mine, and that horrid female ritual started taking place in which we constantly degrade ourselves. We started listing off the body parts we didn’t think were perfect like a scene from Mean Girls. Usually, unfortunately, this behaviour washes over me, and despite having found a fairly happy place over the last 12 months with my figure, who I am and the way I look, I’ve come to join in with these negative self talk sessions as it seems the done thing.

Bad Bel. *Slaps wrist*

But this fateful day, the conversation took a turn I wasn’t expecting. My gorgeous friend, who’s recently started running, began complaining about her thighs. More specifically about how running was making them fat.

Now, my fellow internet dwellers, this statement confused me.

I looked to her and said “that’s muscle, your thighs are getting muscular because you’re running – thats good!”. Alas, she didn’t seem to see the difference, and began throwing around phrases like, dare I say it, “thigh gap”.



As I type this I still sit here dumfounded. I believed that, as a society, we were taking the right steps into encouraging health and strength over sickness. But maybe my world has just been taken over by fitness inspo and I can’t see whats right in front of me.

As women, as people, there are pressures on us all to look a certain way, and I am the first to admit (especially working in an industry that idolises celebrities and models alike) that we can let ourselves occasionally wish upon a star that we did in fact have Miranda Kerr’s ankles, or Beyonce’s flat-as-hell stomach (I mean – come on). But I draw the line at wishing ourselves weak.

Strength is the most beautiful and empowering thing. In all its forms. Don’t look at your toned thighs and complain that they don’t resemble stick insects, be glad that they can get you from A to B without you crumpling into a heap. (Because I seriously watched an episode of Americans Next Top Model the other day, and there was a contestant who’s legs were so freaking thin that she actually struggled to walk in heels because they were too weak.)

I try my hardest to give my body what it needs and deserves. I move lots, I eat well, I guzzle water and I’m starting to talk to it right. (Yes, I talk to my body, I’m an only child ok – I had to learn to adapt).

I know it can be hard, and I know we are fed a lot of crap about fitting in. There are entire industries out there that are bred to tell us we have to be skinny. But I am telling you, you have to be healthy. And that is all. (And hey, I am the most important person ok? So ignore all those other guys.)

Try (although it can be very hard) to find your happy place. Mine, if this helps at all, is a post workout glow sitting in front of a big ol’ bowl of scrambled eggs. I am not going to pretend that I always love the hill sprints and mountain climbers, my happy place doesn’t kick in until well after burpees are over. But it is the satisfaction I take from having given myself (both mentally and physically) something that it needed.

Sorry guys, this post got a little emotional. But I guess, when it comes to my friends, and how they view themselves, it can be tough not to jump on the couch (Tom Cruise style), pointing and shouting “F**K you, you’re incredible, if you loved yourself half as much as I do, you would punch yourself right in the nose for telling your body off for doing what it is meant to”.

It’s been a bit of a friends appreciation week all up in here. And yes, threatening to punch people is my way of appreciating them.



Early mornings, five minute prone holds and a bit of fangirling.


Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday for a while now, I have been getting up at some god awful hour and trying (key word: trying) to get my body moving in the form of booty camp. No, you didn’t misread that, and no it wasn’t a typo – there is in fact MEANT to be a ‘y’ on the end of the word booty.

A while a go I introduced you guys to Sam Bluemel and her insatiable attitude to all things health and fitness. As my post indicated, I found her love of simply moving her butt inspiring, so when the idea of one of her boot camps presented itself, I was in it like a shot, and even managed to convince two friends to come along and be my sweat buddies. (Way less gross than it sounds – maybe).


The weeks of this morning madness are drawing slowly to a close (well, it finishes up in a few weeks) and I must admit, I’m pretty bloody sad. I’ve seriously loved it. I have never missed a morning, not even when it was pouring down and we ended up giving up on class all together because the rain was blinding us during hill sprints. Now that is pure dedication*.

I’m pretty sure every single morning that my alarm goes off I instantly start making bargains in my head. “It looks like its going to rain”, “I need to give my body a break” or “I slept terribly, I need another hour”. Luckily, I mostly manage to get past every one of those excuses and make it to our little patch of grass, because once I’m done and we’re stretching out in the (usually) sunny Auckland weather with a sneaky sneaky view of the sky tower behind me – I am always so glad that I’m not in bed.


One of the things I love most about boot camp, Sam, and everything that goes a long with her Move Eat Play revolution, is the emphasis on strength. Physical and emotional. Whether she is encouraging you to try meditating to help handle stresses of everyday life, or screaming you on as you reach the 5th minute of your prone hold (yes, I stayed up for over five minutes), she is a serious motivator to help you take health steps in your life. She fills her blog with recipes, workouts and tips on staying focused on being the healthiest you can (and even throws in a healthy dose of reality sometimes… see her full fledged admit ion of holiday over indulgences here). I’m a pretty big fan girl.

I have always thought that exercising on your own is where it’s at (so don’t even think of ever asking me if I want to go for a run with you – because I don’t), but I think this incredible little group of girls has proved me completely wrong. I’m not quite sure what I am going to do come Monday the 17th of Feb – when there won’t be a group of beautiful, motivated and damn fit ladies waiting to egg me on for a fun 60 minute work out.

Don’t tell Sam, but I will most likely roll over and go back to sleep. My bad.

Tuesday though – I will definitely get up then.

BootyCamp5 BootyCamp4

*The day I went to post this I did actually skip a class. I’m a bad human. BUT, in my defence, I had a wedding the night before and it’s just plain RUDE to not stay up really late dancing and drinking the night away with the happy couple. And that’s a fact.



So, it’s Monday (again, really?) and even though it is only the end of January (ok, ok, not even really half way through), my motivation is disappearing quicker than a bank balance at Boxing Day sales.

Yesterday I went for my first run in, like, forever. Since my half marathon efforts in November, you could count the number of times (and the number of kilometres) I’ve run on one hand. 

But, having put it off for a couple of weeks, I though it was high time I hit the pavement again and re-discovered my love for jogging. 


At first it was bloody brilliant. I strutted along; my brain fog of packing lists, Asia trips and British bank accounts evaporated, and it left me with a somewhat clear head. I remembered how much running had, in the past, helped me to de stress, unwind and pump some awesome ego boosting endorphins around my stupidly short frame.

And then it hit me. 

The wall.

And, the worst bit is, it really didn’t take long. 5ks in and I needed a walk break. After another 2ks I had a stitch. By the time I hit the 10k mark I was ready to throw my trainers at passing cars and scream “my loins are burning hotter than a Mills & Boon protagonist, FOR F*** SAKE, SAVE ME”.

It’s a funny thing really. I kind of expected my body to just remain in the exact state I left it. Like when you put your cute new neon sandals by the door after work, and they are there waiting for you in the morning. Unfortunately my bodies “amazing runner” state has been left out a while. And with few layers of Christmas pudding and glasses of champagne on top of it and its freaking difficult to dig out. 


This Monday, I don’t want stuff (ok, that’s a lie). What I really want is to dig out those damn 2 hour 20ks and my confidence. I want to be able to get myself back to that blissful feeling of real achievement, and take advantage of the views from my regular Mission Bay route in my final weeks in one of the world’s most beautiful cities.

But that means I actually have to get off the couch and move doesn’t it?


Maybe next week.


Not-so-fun runs and runners code.


On the weekend I ran Auckland’s sculpt 6k fun run.

I find the notion of a fun run so hilarious. It’s like someone decided to chuck a nice word at a nasty word and hope people wouldn’t notice. Like tasty cockroach, thought provoking Adam Sandler movie or honest politician. People aren’t just going to stop after the first word and think “that’s sounds grand, sign me up”. Or do they?

I suppose I did.

I know what you’re all thinking, “how can she be bagging running when she does it so often? If she’s a runner, she should love it. Right?” Wrong.

I’m going to break runners code right here, right now. The worst bit about running is actually getting out there and doing it. For those 60 minutes before a race (any race, 6k, 8k or a bloody half marathon), you kind of want to punch yourself for entering. (Hell, 60 minutes before just general non-race related running you don’t really want to get out there.)


Even when you first cross that start line it sucks at first. Until you get into your grove, and you’ve got your fave song going (and the opportunity to pack it in has passed) it is crap. And then you have this wave over you, you kind of sit back (whilst running- don’t ask me to explain that) and realise that you ARE doing it. You are actually doing it. And no matter what your brain tells you about going faster, or harder or even winning, it can’t possibly fault you for trying. Because you’re there, and you are doing it. That is the moment that makes it all worthwhile.

That and, of course, when you cross the damn finish line! Bliss.

So, for all you newbies, (or maybe some experienced runners trying to get back in the game), stick with it through that lying in evil first word…. Fun it won’t be. Stick it out till you get to that second bit. The run. When you get there it will hurt and it will be hard, but it is so rewarding that you don’t need the fun.

Helping me get across that line on Sunday was my brand-spanking-new Skechers GOrun 2’s.

I’ve talked before about how much I love my Skechers runners, they are the shoe that eased me from novice pavement pounder to seasoned(ish) racer. Their vast range of performance shoes is bound to have a style (and a colour combo) to suit, so check them all out here. (Or, if you live in Auckland, go to the new Skechers store in Westfield St Lukes – opening this Friday!)

Now, after all that complaining about un-fun fun runs, I must say, I loved my sculpt experience. I may have starting way down the back of the pack (and it did take me 5 entire minutes to cross the start line), but was quickly in my stride and even smashed a personal best finishing up in 34 minutes.

Not bad for pre 9am Sunday activity.


HealthySelf ladies and Sam from Move Eat Play, image from Move Eat Play’s Instagram.

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