Nothing like a challenge.

Believe me, I know, it's been a while. I'll explain why later. For now, i just wanted to share this little gem with you. Something to work on, and get you on the go for 2014.

The only thing that scares me here are the chair dips. Everything else? Piece of cake. Do it!

One. Two. Step.

Salsa, the crazy sensual dance of Cuba. Also known as my new favorite thing. I am in love. The beautiful drums, soulful lyrics, and jazzy rhythms are the perfect combination of some of my bests. Anything Latin American-ish has quickly grabbed my attention, and Latino House Music has always had my heart. Yes, there is such a Genre of music.

Little miss confidence here, was the belle of the ball. I spent the evening shaking what my mamma gave me with my dearest friend, Shaun. He was reassuring, calm, and gentle, and as it so happened one of the class instructors. You can imagine the looks I got! Every other single woman in the room would have pulled my hair if they could. 

I might not have the moves like Jagger, but apparently I have great rhythm. Avoiding stepping on my Shauns toes, must be evidence of this. I actually can not believe how much fun, or how much of a workout it is. I was breathless and in need of a drink after just about every dance!

In my quest to do all things faboosh I have decided to make Salsa a regular fixture in my little social calendar. Dance has always made me happy. It's always been the language that my soul speaks. It's always been my favorite release. At least Salsa is a lot more sophisticated than my club jamming days. Light hearted frivolousness is exactly what I am in need more of.

I'm not saying I'm going pro, but I'll take any excuse to wear a red dress and fishnets.

Short and sweet.

My mind said yes. My heart said no. My mind said CAAAAKE. My heart said, only if it's those sinful cupcakes you could easily marry. Who was I to argue?

Yes. This is the hormonal binge that I endure, you know for a few days a month. That is the conversation that rattles on inside my head. The entire week I've wanted to smash anything, and everything chocolate in my face. Even more so if it was dipped in caramel. No, not preggers, but can you imagine if I was?

Today I caved. After 4 months of  clean eating, and 2 solid months of taking no prisoners. I bought the sinful cupcakes. Devoured one, and felt that instant nauseating cocktail of regret, sickening sweetness, carbs, and a preference to barf. I could actually have done with just one bite. Or a date (the fruit kind).

Moment over.

What have I done? I've realized this is not me anymore. I've realized my tastes have changed but my head is still not with the new program. My hormones are the devil. My will power is not up to standard. Cup cakes suck so much right now, on a number of levels.

As I stumble, I gain new strength. May this be a lesson, and a reminder of how much I have progressed. A realization that there is no going back. A promise to keep going.

I'm not proud, but I am honest. I fucken love cupcakes, BUT only the thought of them now.

PaleOMG

Celebration, success, and ticked off goals. Hallelujah. Feeling like a million bucks. I'm happier, and more energetic (my friends never knew that was possible). It's like my tail feathers are shaking themselves.

All thanks to Paleo. Yes. One tiny little word, which in short means Eat Real Food. Simple yes?

It may have been only three months, but I am an almost completely devout Paleoist. I shudder at the thought of deep fried anything. I am less than mildly turned on at the thought of Pizza. Ice Cream however will always make me weak at the knee's, which is nothing compared to the euphoria, and butterflies associated with Paleo Brownies. Yes I know there is more to Paleo than that.

I know this is terribly cliched, but it is a lifestyle change. A conscious decision to free myself from my old scoff anything without consideration ways. To want the best things available able for myself. To want to be an example to others on a similar path. To experiment, and find new things that work in my life. To change. To grow. To surpass my own expectations. Am I completely reformed? No. Will I be? Yes.

What I have decided to do is share 3 of the most life changing, mind blowing, how-can-this-be-healthy recipes that have gotten me to, and passed my first goal. All these are simple to make. Real as can be. Epic winners, that taste like success.

Moroccan Spiced Chicken Stack

Shut the front door good!

http://eatclean.co.za/2013/03/28/morroccan-spiced-chicken/

Paleo Chocolate Mousse

Comprised of the 3 ingredients, tastes like angelic love.

http://fitphatflourishing.blogspot.com/2013/07/chocolate-mousse.html?m=1

Primal Moussaka

Un-frikken-believable, if you aren't unmarried, this will get a ring on it.

I replaced Yogurt with Coconut Milk, and Cheese with Mock Parmesan.

http://www.marksdailyapple.com/primal-moussaka/#axzz2kPmh8o5P

Warning: Shameless punt ahead. For more recipes, check out my Pinterest Boards.

Paleo Breakfasts: http://www.pinterest.com/michpearl/paleo-breakfasts/
Paleo Treats: http://www.pinterest.com/michpearl/paleo-treats/
Paleo Yumminess: http://www.pinterest.com/michpearl/paleo-yumminess/

Try, enjoy, and remember to always keep it real! 

Quarter Life Crisis

Three words, spoken in jest. Three words, I have let define me. Three words that have for the first time allowed me to consider myself neurotic. Yes, me the couldn't be more switched on, more focused, or more driven, has now been pimp smacked down to neurotic. I seem to have reached a plateau in my life where each day both fuses with the next, and is exactly like the last. I want more, but I don't know how or where to get it.

For those un-in-the-know, QLC is a term coined for people in their mid twenties who simply put feel they have missed the boat. Right now I feel like I'm on a leaky paddle boat with only one ore. Trying desperately to reach the horizon which the boat is nestling on.

There is an anxiety that will not let me go. That is drowning me. That has deflated my water wings. It's all consuming. I had expected to have so much more of my s**t together by now. Like a lot more.

I will save myself the shame of listing everything that seems to be going wrong or is incomplete. I will also save you the vomit inducing trauma of everything that appears to be going right. Yes there are things going right, but its far from the tipping point. I feel. 

I am very nearly two whole months away from my next birthday. I can't get much more in check by then. I can however choose to see this over dramatized saga differently. Acceptance is a beautiful ritual, but that's in no way who I am. I need passion, triumph, and success, I crave it. As a result. Or as of right now. I will step out of my own way, dive into my own happiness, wrestle the Sirens, and then chill on the shore (with a cocktail, and possibly a Thai masseuse).

New game plan under construction. Revolutionary woman in the making. Captain of the QLC cruise ship. 

Shopping. Cardio. Necessity.

It's absolutely no secret. The thing that gets my blood pumping is shopping. New clothes are my crack cocaine. With a quick coffee as my per-workout, I'm ready to hit my gym. I take the stairs instead of the lift. I start at one end, and work my way around, sort of like a circuit.  Bending, stretching, grabbing, lifting. The 6 items I lug around are my weights. The fitting rooms, and desperate attempts at fitting into a smaller size are my work out. The ridiculously bright lights are my steam rooms, tiny beads of sweat make the faintest of appearances. The decisions on what stays and belongs in my closet, are my discipline lesson. Sort of like reading the food labels. Too many carbs and calories vs bazinga! My purchases are my achievements, personal bests, and post workout buzzes. Looking amazing in them is my reward for a sesh well done.

I do all this, because this is my self given sense of worthiness. Big girls in this world need all the help they can get to look like they fit in. Fashion does this for me. I need clothing in my life, not to cover up, but to hide. To hide my flaws. Yes my scarf is amazing, it draws the eye down. Yes the skirt is figure hugging, it makes me feel great, and care less about my legs. I may not physically look like I fell off the cover of vogue, but I dress the part. Well I try to.
This is what a sizable part of my journey is about. Being able to completely senselessly indulge my hunger for new threads. I want to wear short shorts, skinny trousers and fitted blazers, mesh insert tops, tiny bandage dresses, sky scraper high heels (without them killing me after 30min), tank tops without covering my arms. Sheesh, the list is quite long. I want to walk into Top Shop, YDE, and Zara, and just pull my hearts desire from a rack. No size fussing, or heart sinking, or silent prayers for my jaw to be wired shut in my sleep. 
I have thankfully stopped shopping for when I lose weight. I have an entire closet of one day items. Idiot. That money could have been FAR better spent on a Mani. It was however the making of my greatest goal. I want to wear every single thing I have held onto for some of which close on 6 years. (Yikes. If only I had this level of motivation then.) I want to walk tall, feel unashamedly gorgeous, turn heads, and be completely spoilt for choice. I'm getting there, and I will taste victory.
My next cardio session is scheduled for today. The goal is to find smaller work trousers, because mine are clawing at the hip bone to stay on. *Air punch*. I may or may not stop there, but as long as I get some kind of fix I'll be satisfied. Retail therapy? No darling, retail necessity.

A place to write, confuse, and amuse.

So today I sit here (after having read too much Eat Pray Love, with nails too long for my own good), I realise that I am fueled by a need to let it all hang out. A need to tell stories, be a dork, and not a give a damn. Where better to do that than with a swanky new blog? It's like my very own clean slate, blank page, canvas, all of the above. A place to write, confuse, and amuse.

With that, I would like to announce that I am not entirely fit, this is something that is "under construction". I am however a double dose of rockstar fabulousness. No really. I am an all or nothing, former queen of cocktail, and current full time work and shopaholic, who loses track of the plot, as I stumble from fitting room, to fitting room.

I do not want this to be a fitness blog, but I do wish for it to be a place for me to share my journey, and maybe help *you dear reader* in an en-devour to make the treadmill your bitch. One step at a time. See what i did there? To be completely honest, I am almost the furthest thing from a small framed gym bunny. I am as big as I am bold.

I'm a Paleoist, a motivator, a wannabe gym thrasher, and a big dreamer.

I dream of tiny dresses, tighter tops, and higher heels. This will be a collection of my musings, and my hopefully effortless struggle to get into them.

I have no idea what this blog will include yet, it may be recipes, new tattoo's, talks about goals, retrospective self discussions, kicks up the bum. Who knows? The need to let it all hang out may pass. If I'm lucky it'll stick around, and let me freely share the little misadventures of my life.