<rss version="2.0" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/"><channel><title>prettystrong40</title><description>prettystrong40</description><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/home</link><item><title>Book Review - Hunger</title><description><![CDATA[The 2017 memoir, Hunger, by Roxane Gay, has been on my list of ‘must reads’ for a while. As someone who writes about weight and weight loss, and works in the health and fitness industry, I was interested to read another perspective. Roxane Gay is a successful and critically acclaimed writer, international speaker, novelist and feminist. She is the author of several books including the New York Times bestseller – Bad Feminist. Yet with all this wonderful success, Roxane is profoundly conflicted<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b6ad74a676b74e5dbe5bcf8660bf0f96%7Emv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_335%2Ch_499/82974c_b6ad74a676b74e5dbe5bcf8660bf0f96%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2019/04/24/Book-Review---Hunger</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2019/04/24/Book-Review---Hunger</guid><pubDate>Tue, 23 Apr 2019 21:09:35 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b6ad74a676b74e5dbe5bcf8660bf0f96~mv2.jpg"/><div>The 2017 memoir, Hunger, by Roxane Gay, has been on my list of ‘must reads’ for a while. As someone who writes about weight and weight loss, and works in the health and fitness industry, I was interested to read another perspective. </div><div>Roxane Gay is a successful and critically acclaimed writer, international speaker, novelist and feminist. She is the author of several books including the New York Times bestseller – Bad Feminist. Yet with all this wonderful success, Roxane is profoundly conflicted and tormented by personal issues. </div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Fxt_MZKMdes"/><div> TED Talk - Roxane Gay</div><div>From the start we are warned Hunger is not a happy story. It’s a book about a girl from a loving home whose life is suddenly interrupted by ‘something terrible,’ at age 12. A life altering violation that forever changes her path, and everything about how she views and treats her body. Roxane’s story is about the consequences of hunger – uncontrollable, revolting and piggish hunger.</div><div>Hunger is a deeply personal book that chronicles Roxane’s struggle with her weight, the impact of her size on her day to day existence and her longing for self-acceptance. She says, it was her most difficult book to write. </div><div>‘The story of my body is not a triumph. This is not a weight-loss memoir. There will be no picture of a thin version of me, my slender body emblazoned across this book’s cover, with me standing in one leg of my former fatter self’s jeans… Mine is not a success story.’</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AxPQEru0R4A"/><div> Roxane Gay - story and background</div><div>Whilst Hunger is not a success story, it is an important story. In a world where body transformation conquests are prized and celebrated, Roxane provides an analysis of the alternative - failure. It is a daily struggle and at times painful to read.</div><div>Perhaps Roxane’s greatest and most fascinating revelation is that ultimately, she hates her body. She wishes it was smaller, fitter and healthier. At her heaviest she weighed 262 kilograms, falling into the super morbidly obese category. Roxane aptly says, ‘There’s what I know, and what I feel.’ As a feminist she believes women shouldn’t have to conform to rigid standards of beauty. Yet her own truth is quite different. Roxane constantly feels physically and emotionally uncomfortable in her body. She openly aches for a more socially acceptable form of beauty.</div><div>This, and many other moments of raw and honest self-reflection, make Hunger compelling reading.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_faa28b8e2c684ad3b334ee9a735dc5fe~mv2.jpg"/><div> Source - The Guardian.com</div><div>For all its insightful revelations, I felt Hunger could have benefited from the inclusion of more specific details. For example, Roxane writes about waking up each day with ‘the best intentions for living a healthier, fuller life.’ However this never goes to plan and she says she ends most days by binging to the point of feeling sick. Yet she doesn’t reveal what she eats or in what quantities. I was curious to know exactly what it takes to satisfy her unrelenting hunger. In another chapter she writes about it being ‘unacceptable for fat people to eat in public.’ This made me wonder, is this line of thinking, this shame about people knowing what you eat, spilling over into her writing?</div><div>In her opening chapters Roxane says she hopes her story will allow her to be seen and understood. She says her book exposes her ugliest, weakest and barest parts. However when reading Hunger, there was not one moment where I viewed anything about Roxane as weak or ugly. I only felt empathy and understanding and a desire to know more. For this reason Hunger is an important work of non-fiction and an essential read for anyone wishing to truly understand the formidable force that is, hunger.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Why women should never have to apologise for their bodies. The top 3 things I learnt from running a weight loss challenge.</title><description><![CDATA[Look out Michelle Bridges.In 2018 I found myself on the other side of the health and fitness industry. The student became the teacher when I put my hand up to administer a 5 week weight loss challenge.Turn back the clock three years, and if someone said I would help run a weight loss challenge, I would have removed the Snickers bar from my mouth, tried not to choke between raucous snorts, and confidently reinserted said bar. My mind would have immediately conjured up images of Little Britain’s<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d8f45728a7a140b68ebe5e92eecefd56%7Emv2_d_2000_1533_s_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_497%2Ch_379/82974c_d8f45728a7a140b68ebe5e92eecefd56%7Emv2_d_2000_1533_s_2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2019/03/15/The-top-3-things-I-learnt-from-running-a-weight-loss-challenge</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2019/03/15/The-top-3-things-I-learnt-from-running-a-weight-loss-challenge</guid><pubDate>Thu, 14 Mar 2019 17:41:34 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d8f45728a7a140b68ebe5e92eecefd56~mv2_d_2000_1533_s_2.jpg"/><div>Look out Michelle Bridges.</div><div>In 2018 I found myself on the other side of the health and fitness industry. The student became the teacher when I put my hand up to administer a 5 week weight loss challenge.</div><div>Turn back the clock three years, and if someone said I would help run a weight loss challenge, I would have removed the Snickers bar from my mouth, tried not to choke between raucous snorts, and confidently reinserted said bar. My mind would have immediately conjured up images of Little Britain’s Marjorie Dawes coaching the Fat Fighters. Who would involve themselves in what must be a condescending and shame filled experience?</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/fyvjqGAhhNI"/><div>Would the challenge be like this? </div><div>Ask again today and I’d still whisk a Snickers (albeit protein bar version) from my mouth. However rather than laugh, I’d be much more likely to romance you with stories of changed lives and letting your ‘inner light’ shine. All this between random sets of star jumps, crunches and lettuce ensconced hamburgers.</div><div>Weight Loss Challenges are the fad of the moment. My social feeds are filled with challenges. J.Lo and A Rod are right now encouraging me to join them on a ten day no carb challenge – apparently they are lonely without bread. And Sam Wood has promised me I’ll be Snezana if I join him for 28 days – and I’m rather tempted.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_1acf45547633474c9b6712c8bf119071~mv2.jpg"/><div>J.Lo and A.Rod - lonely without bread. </div><div>I hadn’t planned on becoming a wannabe Michelle Bridges. One thing led to another thing led to a tape measure and a very fancy weighing machine in my hands. Next, I was devising inspirational, ‘you’ve got this’ messages for Instagram and negotiating sponsors and prize packs.</div><div>The challenge I work on involves following a nutrition plan, completing online resistance workouts and attending dance fitness classes. We award a prize to the person who loses the highest percentage of their starting body weight.</div><div>Along the way – and we are four challenges in now, I’ve come to many realisations. I’ve questioned whether encouraging weight loss reinforces the insecurities we have about our bodies. I’ve felt the pressure to maintain my own physique as I put myself up as a role model. And I’ve been really inspired by the perseverance, honesty and strength of participants. </div><div>Here are my top three lessons:</div><div>1. All women's bodies are beautiful</div><div>One of my first tasks was to use my tape measure in an official capacity and take body measurements. I was extremely excited about this. It felt kind of medical. And for a mildly reformed hypochondriac and someone with absolutely no health qualifications, I liked the idea of a faux medical looking role. </div><div>However, my tongue in cheek start quickly evolved into an intimate and introspective experience, that ultimately gave me a much greater appreciation of women’s bodies. The process of taking intricate body measurements required me to get up close and personal with the human body, in particular women’s bodies, in a way I wasn’t used to. The more I did it, the more I found my mind reaching the same conclusion - all women’s bodies, with their softness and curves, are amazing and beautiful. They are beautiful at any age and any stage. I felt this way about every single person I measured. I started to feel this way about myself too, and not just about my body today but my body over its lifetime.</div><div>It’s ironic to think it took a weight-loss challenge for me to take a step back and truly comprehend this.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Jne9t8sHpUc"/><div>Isn't it ironic? </div><div>Sometimes I think women feel the need to apologise, explain or justify how their body looks. I know I have felt this way. I’ve felt intimidated when I’ve had to reveal myself to someone I’ve considered fitter than me. What must they be thinking about my flaws? Are they grossed out?</div><div>But the truth is women’s bodies are beautiful. They are physically beautiful in shape, curvature and appearance and are a miracle of nature. They require no apologies and no explanations.</div><div>2. Show me your friends and I’ll show you – you</div><div>There is something to be said about surrounding yourself with like-minded people, when in pursuit of a goal. The</div><div>influence of community is extremely powerful. Perhaps just as powerful as it was on the playground at five when everyone is telling you to jump down the fireman’s pole and it seems so far away and scary – but you do it anyway. </div><div>So whether it be a scary fireman’s pole or an exercise class you don’t feel like going to on a winter’s night, peer pressure can be an extremely motivating factor. In addition, seeing other people achieve their goals when you are on the same path can also push you to succeed.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/sLisEEwYZvw"/><div>We are the company we keep.</div><div>3. It’s not really about weight</div><div>Prior to our first challenge I had a debate with its creator about the name. I wanted to call it a health and fitness challenge. He wanted to be more upfront and call it a weight loss challenge. As a seasoned personal trainer and fitness instructor he said the most common request he receives from his clients, is to lose weight, and he didn’t want to shy away from it.</div><div>I didn’t like the word weight because I felt it had negative connotations. I was concerned directly encouraging weight loss might reinforce or promote body insecurities. However there is something to be said about meeting customer demand, and so, the 5 Week Weight Loss Challenge was born.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_4a2653298a4f4e0e94f2ba582478773a~mv2_d_2400_2400_s_4_2.jpg"/><div>Challenge winner Venkat says participating changed his life. </div><div>This is not a paid promotion but there have been some amazing results achieved. And this is the part where I romance you somewhat, because I have witnessed some magical transformations. I’ve seen wider smiles, brighter eyes and an overall happier disposition develop. It’s been inspiring to watch.</div><div>I contend however, these wonderful attributes are not the product of weight loss. They are the result of working toward a goal, being a part of a likeminded community and, most importantly, feeling fitter, stronger and healthier. All these factors contribute towards our happiness. Weight loss is simply the often welcomed by-product. </div><div>In my head I still call it a health and fitness challenge – but that’s our little secret.</div><div>So would you join a challenge? If not, why? I’d love to hear about it.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>I woke up like this</title><description><![CDATA[Gym ready. There is one thing I never leave the house without. Ever.And it’s not the obvious collection of keys, phone and wallet. I can live without those.It’s makeup. That, I can’t live without.It doesn’t matter where I’m going. Whether it be the supermarket, school drop-off or child birth – I always have something on. Even if it’s only a light dust of bronzer or a suggestion of blush. It’s a non-negotiable step to leaving the house.The only place I don’t wear makeup, is to bed.I even wear<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_70e8543098ee485f88743bef8d7b7a35%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/10/29/I-woke-up-like-this</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/10/29/I-woke-up-like-this</guid><pubDate>Mon, 29 Oct 2018 11:44:06 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_70e8543098ee485f88743bef8d7b7a35~mv2.jpg"/><div>Gym ready. </div><div>There is one thing I never leave the house without. Ever.</div><div>And it’s not the obvious collection of keys, phone and wallet. I can live without those.</div><div>It’s makeup. That, I can’t live without.</div><div>It doesn’t matter where I’m going. Whether it be the supermarket, school drop-off or child birth – I always have something on. Even if it’s only a light dust of bronzer or a suggestion of blush. It’s a non-negotiable step to leaving the house.</div><div>The only place I don’t wear makeup, is to bed.</div><div>I even wear makeup when I work out. By this I don’t mean, I just happened to be wearing makeup earlier in the day and then left it on to exercise. I mean, if working out is the only thing I’m doing that day – I will still intentionally apply makeup. </div><div>And I’m not alone.</div><div>In a Facebook poll asking Pretty Strong 40 followers if they wear some form of makeup to the gym, 40% of the 146 respondents answered ‘yes.’ A similar poll of the Australian moderated, 90,000 strong Facebook group – The Makeup Social, yielded mixed results. This group, consisting of professional makeup artists and devotees, was passionate in their responses, with many respondents against the use of makeup for exercise.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_ba0095de558b4261bdb16dc5c3e3e180~mv2.png"/><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6J7YTJimzj0"/><div>In makeup circles, wearing cosmetics to work out is a controversial and divisive topic that invokes a wide spectrum of beliefs.</div><div>For some, there is nothing worse than the horror of a face dripping with oily, paraben enriched, technicolour sweat. There exists an underlying fear of perspiration being forcefully restrained by stubborn pore clogging foundations or powders. There exists an even greater fear this may result in acne causing toxins. </div><div>For many people, how they look when working out has no impact on the benefits they derive from the experience. As Makeup Social member, Elle Walker says, ‘I don’t go to the gym to look hot, I go to make myself hot.’</div><div>And of course, there is the logical concern about the point of wearing makeup that will likely get washed away in a rush of sweat.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/WBbJT6vo5tE"/><div>Didn't you wake up like this?</div><div>However, for many of us, myself included, barefaced working out is not an option.</div><div>Exercise is an important and positive contributor to my physical and mental health and overall well-being. My time in a gym or dance studio is prized, and usually carefully orchestrated around kid’s meal times, babysitting, work and study. When I work out, I like to make the most of it and part of that includes feeling good about how I look. It has the flow on effect of boosting my confidence as I move my body in front of ever present studio mirrors. Without over analysing my philosophical and psychological desire to improve my appearance, simply put, I wear makeup because I feel like I look better with it on.</div><div>This doesn’t mean my face is buried in product. Sometimes it’s just brows, mascara and fake tan – the makeup/no makeup look. When I was younger this would have been my preferred option, as I attempted to play it cool and conceal my need for makeup. However, the 40+ me is out and proud and painting the gym red - burnt tan 06, to be exact.</div><div>The desire to look good at the gym isn’t breaking news. The rapid expanse of the activewear market in recent years, is testimony to this. This trend has not gone unnoticed by the Beauty industry, with many brands releasing ‘gym proof’ products that won’t ‘clog your pores’ and stifle your sweat.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_8983f3b345004e87b266814cf06e4a70~mv2.png"/><div> Niki Kiskiras, Senior Product Manager at L'Oreal Luxe Australia, shares her favourite gym 'go-to' products with Pretty Strong 40.</div><div>So, the choice is yours Pretty Strong 40s - will you wear makeup to your next gym session?</div><div>I’d love to hear about it.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Son's Future Determined at Two Days Old</title><description><![CDATA[I want it NOW! I often say my kids live in the now. What matters to them most, is what is happening right now. Can they have the PS4 controller – now. Can they have a snack – now. Can so and so play at our house – now!But I think that is most of us. We are so focussed on what we have to do today. What we have to do tomorrow. What we have planned for the future.It is easy to forget what has gone before.The events, experiences and relationships that made us who we are today.Last night, I went to<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_69143c5a85e24959a6e64a45d0b4f15f%7Emv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_400%2Ch_225/82974c_69143c5a85e24959a6e64a45d0b4f15f%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/08/27/Your-Future-Determined---At-Two-Days-Old</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/08/27/Your-Future-Determined---At-Two-Days-Old</guid><pubDate>Sun, 26 Aug 2018 14:04:43 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_69143c5a85e24959a6e64a45d0b4f15f~mv2.jpg"/><div>I want it NOW! </div><div>I often say my kids live in the now. What matters to them most, is what is happening right now. </div><div>Can they have the PS4 controller – now. </div><div>Can they have a snack – now. </div><div>Can so and so play at our house – now!</div><div>But I think that is most of us. We are so focussed on what we have to do today. What we have to do tomorrow. What we have planned for the future.</div><div>It is easy to forget what has gone before.</div><div>The events, experiences and relationships that made us who we are today.</div><div>Last night, I went to the movies. I watched the Mamamia sequel.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XaGXEtzbbdw"/><div> Here we go again.</div><div>I live in a house of boys. My nine year old was happy to come along. My 11 year old said it wasn’t his thing and watched Mission Impossible with his Dad. My six year old, as usual, had little choice in the matter.</div><div>So, the three of us went to the movies. Master Six didn't stop talking. Once the movie started, he had a lot of questions. </div><div>'Mum, I’ve heard that song before,' - you live with me of course you've heard 'Dancing Queen.'</div><div>'Mum, is the mum really dead?'</div><div>'Mum, I think this is a girl’s movie.' </div><div>'Mum, Mum, Mum...'</div><div>I don’t make it to the movies very often and was in the mood to zone out for an hour or so. But my son had other plans. He was becoming increasingly restless. I had semi-bribed him with the promise of a pack of sour sweets if he was good during the movie. This resulted in him enquiring at regular intervals, 'Am I being good?' At one point during his various seat gyrations he took my hand and held it to his cheek. He often does this. It always makes me stop and remember.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_8454bc121a6c404cabefa853ee52c9ef~mv2.jpg"/><div> Ready to pop</div><div>My third pregnancy was my best – physically and mentally. For the most part I felt relaxed. Physically I kept in good shape. I did not stop dancing. And by dancing, I mean, really dancing. Three or four times a week I attended a class called Dance Xtreme. It lived up to its name. No matter the size of my stomach, I was a woman on the move with a groove. I remember walking out of class with a massive tummy and a group of young girls looking my way in horror. </div><div>‘Don’t worry, it’s not contagious girls.’ I said, with a touch of third baby ‘tude.</div><div>I only gained 10 kilograms throughout the whole pregnancy (half the amount of my previous pregnancy) and was completely up myself with achievement. I stopped exercising about two weeks before giving birth, but that was only because it was the Christmas shutdown. I would have entered the labour ward with a jazz run if it was socially acceptable.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EHPdVnUour4"/><div> Preferred method of entry to the Labour Ward </div><div>On 9th January 2012 Noah arrived by caesarean section.</div><div>Everything was going to plan. Until it didn’t.</div><div>I swelled up to Teletubby proportions after the surgery. A bit of swelling was normal for me, but this was comical. I remember family and friends coming to visit and having a look of confusion on their face, whilst trying to be polite at the same time.</div><div>Hospital staff repeatedly reassured me everything was fine, but I wasn’t so sure about my very sore and protruding stomach. It looked bigger than it did before giving birth.</div><div>I was in a lot of pain.</div><div>It hurt to walk.</div><div>It hurt to eat.</div><div>As the saying goes - literally in this instance, go with your gut, because two days after going home I was back in hospital. Scar tissue had wrapped itself tightly around my intestine and I was really unwell.</div><div>I was readmitted to hospital with my newborn. Noah spent quite a bit of time in the nursery, so I could sleep and recover. Each time he came back into my room to feed, I would cuddle my tiny future chatterbox, and pace the room. I would hold his cheek with the palm of my hand and press it softly into my own. I would sing to him (maybe even an ABBA song, just to make this story more interesting.) </div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/xFrGuyw1V8s"/><div> It makes for a good story</div><div>It amazes me that to this day, my son still gains so much comfort from this. How often he takes my hand and presses it to his cheek. It helps him fall asleep. It soothes him when he is upset. It’s his instinctive response to any kind of trauma and yet he was only a few days old when I did this.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_33fd1467a06f4a1bbda659df8e5822ac~mv2.jpg"/><div>Future chatterbox </div><div>I know other mums with similar experiences. One girlfriend was going through a tough time and would sing a particular song to her baby and cry. For a short while it was a nightly routine. To this day if she sings that song to her now eight year old son, he still cries.</div><div>We are the sum of our life experiences – even from those first few days of life. There are relationships, comments and incidents that have helped shape us and our opinions of ourselves. Like that mean kid on the playground who called you ugly and you believed it – maybe forever, or the English teacher who said you had ‘something special.’ </div><div>By our 40s we have a lot of life experience – statistically close to half of our whole life experience. What has made you – you? Why do you think you react as you do? Could understanding be the key to inner peace and self acceptance?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Why I think Strong is the New Pretty - Part 2</title><description><![CDATA[Read Part 1 - Why I think Strong is the New Pretty - Part 1Like I said, I can be very convincing. When I was a kid and my parents told me I couldn’t go somewhere – I wouldn’t accept ‘no.’ My ‘yes’ campaigns could go on for days, even weeks. For example, Mum and Dad didn’t want me to go on the Year 11 ski trip, likely because neither I, nor they, had ever skied before. But I really wanted to go. I even went to all the ski camp meetings and had several cool circles believing I owned professional<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b02712f1451248ad8397a06eb6c5b8b6%7Emv2_d_1367_2048_s_2.png"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/06/21/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-2</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/06/21/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-2</guid><pubDate>Wed, 20 Jun 2018 21:41:47 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div>Read Part 1 - <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/05/06/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-1"></a><a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/05/06/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-1">Why I think Strong is the New Pretty - Part 1</a></div><div>Like I said, I can be very convincing. </div><div>When I was a kid and my parents told me I couldn’t go somewhere – I wouldn’t accept ‘no.’ My ‘yes’ campaigns could go on for days, even weeks. For example, Mum and Dad didn’t want me to go on the Year 11 ski trip, likely because neither I, nor they, had ever skied before. But I really wanted to go. I even went to all the ski camp meetings and had several cool circles believing I owned professional stocks and royal family style ski outfits. I would beg, cry and make all kinds of promises I couldn’t possibly keep, like getting up on time in the morning - still an issue. I had a fifty percent success rate. I always knew defeat was looming when Dad removed his right slipper and sent it flying in my direction. Game over.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_14ad70db670b47c0a95a9132e676aa83~mv2_d_1358_2198_s_2.jpg"/><div> Game changer - my Dad, champion slipper thrower</div><div>So yes, it appeared my husband, who isn’t one to worry medically, was worried.</div><div>I spent that Monday morning playing with Jack, eyes fixated on my old Nokia phone. Since going on maternity leave I had repelled all technology – but not today.</div><div>The phone rang as Jack was lying under a jungle gym. I was in the middle of applauding his swiping abilities and hoping for some tummy time. It was my husband. Was he serious? I was waiting for a life and death phone call.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TOc84Z-y8g8"/><div> Remember that ring?</div><div>‘I have your results,’ he said.</div><div>I didn’t need to ask how. This man is an emergency room professional. Even the most experienced triage nurse will not be able to resist finding him a bed and likely his own private suite. It usually goes something like this: </div><div>Nurse “Rate your pain from 1 to 10 Sir?”</div><div>Husband “10”</div><div>Nurse “Any difficulty breathing?”</div><div>Husband “Yes. Can I sit down?”</div><div>Nurse “Head ache? Dizziness?”</div><div>Husband “Yes and yes.”</div><div>Nurse “Seems excessive for a splinter, but I guess we’d better admit you.”</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dH4HiSQd3bE"/><div>Rate your pain from 1 to 10 </div><div>Getting his hands on a confidential report certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.</div><div>Then he said, &quot;I don’t understand it all but - it says normal for age.&quot;</div><div>I’m not dying.</div><div>I’m not dying.</div><div>I’m not dying.</div><div>I picked Jack up and danced with relief.</div><div>When my doctor called later that morning I pretended I didn’t know the results because God knows what went down to acquire them. She confirmed I wasn’t dying. The likely cause of my vision issues was stress and exhaustion.</div><div>It was all over.</div><div>For about a week.</div><div>This awful story filled the news.</div><div>A young woman was dying. </div><div>She had terminal skin cancer. Melanoma.</div><div>Her name is Clare Oliver and she would go on to be one of the main reasons why solariums are banned in Australia. It was a powerful story. I was obsessed.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a0ZRuZ513uE"/><div>Clare Oliver</div><div>I had used a solarium. </div><div>I have fair skin. </div><div>I called my doctor.</div><div>Every freckle, every mole needed to be reviewed, measured and examined.</div><div>All was checked.</div><div>All was okay.</div><div>I wanted a referral to a specialist. I had two moles removed by my own accord.</div><div>I was on high alert for changes.</div><div>I returned to my doctor for Jack’s four months injections. As we discussed the side effects of the Rotavirus jab I subtly/not so subtly pointed to a suspicious lesion.</div><div>My doctor examined what had been the intense focus of my attention for the past 24 hours. </div><div>“Looks fine Suzie. But why don’t we have a little chat.”</div><div>We talked about a lot of things. We talked about my pregnancy.</div><div>Throughout those nine months I had been surrounded by medical problems. I’d seen things go catastrophically wrong for some of the people in my life. The worry and stress of these experiences had become ingrained in my psyche. I had become hyper alert to the possibility that something could go wrong.</div><div>My doctor gently suggested I was experiencing a period of heightened anxiety that seemed to manifest itself in perceived medical problems. She wanted me to try a few non-interventionist strategies to manage this.</div><div>Firstly, I was not to google anything medical. This was great advice and to this day, 11 years later, Dr Google and I are not on speaking terms.</div><div>Secondly, she suggested I try regular cardio exercise. She explained that cardio exercise has been scientifically proven to help regulate the chemicals in our brain and reduce feelings of anxiety.</div><div>There was a catch though. I was to exercise on my own for 40 minutes, every day.</div><div>How could I possibly manage that?</div><div>But somehow, with the support of my family, we made it happen.</div><div>I joined a gym. I wasn’t a gym person.</div><div>I went for solo walks. I was not a solo walking person.</div><div>I went back to dance class. Now that, I loved.</div><div>After a few weeks my anxiety started to dissipate. There isn’t a particular moment I recall as becoming worry free, but my worries had become less of a focus. </div><div>And as time went on I became stronger - physically and mentally. Back then, with such a young child I couldn’t keep up daily, solo exercise, but I did lock it in as a regular habit. Sometimes it was as simple as a brisk walk with the pram and headphones. Some days it was all too hard. Interestingly, on the days I didn’t get my exercise fix, I noticed by the end of the day I didn’t feel as calm. </div><div>Worrying would return for a period. As anyone who has had three children under five will tell you - stuff happens - it is an intense and demanding time. Cardio exercise has remained a constant companion and even if it is just for the immediate period after exercise –<a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/03/05/Do-this-one-thing-and-you-will-be-happy">I always feel better.</a></div><div>I don’t want to simplify an issue as serious and complex as mental health. Or claim for even a moment that exercise is the ‘cure all.’ I know I was lucky. I know my experience isn’t the case for everyone. That said, it really worked for me and continues to work for me.</div><div>It’s for this reason I believe strong is the new pretty. It’s so much more than the strong female physique being ‘en vogue.’ Becoming physically strong, through regular cardio exercise and later, through weight bearing exercises, has given me mental strength. It has given me power over powerful emotions. And that, is pretty. That is pretty strong.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b02712f1451248ad8397a06eb6c5b8b6~mv2_d_1367_2048_s_2.png"/><div>l like a strong body but I love a strong mind</div><div>Author’s note</div><div>A few people close to me have commented this is a very personal piece. I agree it is personal - but the truth is it happened - whether I write about it or not. It’s happening to people all the time – our little worries growing to become big worries and stealing precious time from life. So, if this is you, know you are not alone and there are things you can do to make life better.</div><div>Do you do anything to keep mentally strong? What is it?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Why I think Strong is the New Pretty - Part 1</title><description><![CDATA[When the clock went blurry.It started within hours of my first son, Jack, being born. I remember looking at the clock on the wall in my hospital room and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t read the clockface. The numbers were all blurry. ‘I can’t see properly.’ Mum had been sitting next to me looking concerned, ‘What was that Suzie?’I had been awake for close to 48 hours. Jack’s love of attention grabbing entrances started early. There had been an induction, labour and an emergency c-section. But<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_cef7bf9a4f0f41d2a2b98ed1ff79eddf%7Emv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_305%2Ch_305/82974c_cef7bf9a4f0f41d2a2b98ed1ff79eddf%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/05/06/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-1</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/05/06/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-1</guid><pubDate>Sun, 06 May 2018 11:21:43 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_cef7bf9a4f0f41d2a2b98ed1ff79eddf~mv2.jpg"/><div>When the clock went blurry.</div><div>It started within hours of my first son, Jack, being born. I remember looking at the clock on the wall in my hospital room and as hard as I tried, I couldn’t read the clockface. The numbers were all blurry. ‘I can’t see properly.’ Mum had been sitting next to me looking concerned, ‘What was that Suzie?’</div><div>I had been awake for close to 48 hours. Jack’s love of attention grabbing entrances started early. There had been an induction, labour and an emergency c-section. But none of that mattered. He was finally here, and healthy and so perfect and round and cute. I was intoxicated with relief.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_db5c98f121bb44f580d5de6ecefed0e9~mv2.jpg"/><div>Happiness was momentary</div><div>My baby and I cuddled as the doctors and nurses went about putting me back together. A routine question had me glance up and notice a nurse moving my legs. I realised I couldn’t feel my legs. It was surreal, watching the nurse organise my lower limbs as if she were tying a bow, and feeling absolutely nothing. I started to panic. I started to verbalise my panic.</div><div>The nurse re-assured me the feeling in my legs would return as the epidural wore off. I became frightened. I’d read stories about women becoming paralysed – shouldn’t sensation have returned by now?</div><div>Then my pulse lowered. Jack was swiftly removed from his cosy little position on my chest and taken to the nursery. Heated blankets were brought in. A drip went into action pumping relief through my veins. After about 30 minutes my vitals settled, and some sensitivity returned to my legs. I could finally leave the recovery room and be with my family.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/uNDcf3Vw1vo"/><div>What is an epidural?</div><div>My sister, who was pregnant at the time, still recalls walking into my hospital room and being horrified at my drained appearance and worried demeanour. I was the first one in our family to have a baby, and she would be the next. I was the window into her imminent future and the view was most unpleasant. </div><div>It was during this visit that I became fixated on the clock and my inability to read the dial.</div><div>Days passed, but I kept thinking about my vision going funny. I became hyper aware of my eyesight. Was it sometimes blurry? Was it still sharp? When I was up late at night feeding, I would notice visual disturbances in the dim light. Something wasn’t right.</div><div>After a few weeks of worry I visited my GP and an ophthalmologist. My eyes were examined, photographed and tested. Everything appeared normal. Neither doctor believed there to be anything wrong. I, on the other hand, was convinced I had a serious neurological issue. Likely a brain tumour or a deadly degenerative disease.</div><div>After a further three or four visits to my GP, she reluctantly agreed to an MRI - to shut me up. She told me as much too. </div><div>At the time there was at least a week or so wait before getting an appointment with an MRI machine. I’d worked myself into such a state that I’d shamelessly preyed upon my medical connections to get a special appointment the next day - a Saturday. The results would be available Monday.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/N3VJHjALUEo"/><div>What it's like to have a brain MRI</div><div>I attended my ‘special’ appointment. The hospital clinic was officially closed so it was all very quiet. I spent most of my time over analysing everything the radiographer said and did. When he said, ‘Have a good weekend.’ – what did he really mean? Did he know something?</div><div>I had 48 hours before I would finally know my fate. I kept looking at baby Jack and thinking I would miss out on a life with him. I started to assess my life. What was important? Who was important? You see, I really believed in the possibility that something was seriously wrong.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_cfd2d461ba1147bc89b0328a08b2e389~mv2_d_4032_3024_s_4_2.jpg"/><div> My first little bundle of joy</div><div>In this hyper aware state of mind, do you know the one question I kept asking myself? Why did I ever waste ANY time worrying about my weight or appearance? It all </div><div>seemed so trivial and unimportant now. As I considered my own mortality, it was the last thing I cared about.</div><div>When you experience anxiety, in particular health anxiety, you take everyone close to you along for the ride. My parents, my husband and my sisters. Even though they didn’t tell me at the time – they were also really worried. It was hard not to fall under my dark pessimistic spell.</div><div>It was for this reason my husband secretly took that Monday morning off work…</div><div>Read Part 2 now - <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/06/21/Why-I-think-Strong-is-the-New-Pretty---Part-2">Why I think Strong is the New Pretty - Part 2</a></div><div>Have you experienced a health scare? How did you handle it? What stands out in your mind?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Do this one thing and you will be happy</title><description><![CDATA[Why am I so happy?It’s a big, bold call and frankly I’m making it. Dance classes – in particular, cardio based dance-fitness classes, will make you happy. They will make you happy when you are sad. They will make you happy when the last thing you feel like doing is putting on Lycra. They will make you happy when you feel like you could scream your throat blood-red raw.Sometimes all you want to do is scream!Before you roll your eyes in click bait exasperation - hear me out. Last Thursday I had a<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_94dd938af1d5475ba830e92bf45aa3b4%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/03/05/Do-this-one-thing-and-you-will-be-happy</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/03/05/Do-this-one-thing-and-you-will-be-happy</guid><pubDate>Sun, 04 Mar 2018 14:15:46 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_3bbf84b8b6e94a9a9aefeb1a6c92129d~mv2.jpg"/><div> Why am I so happy?</div><div>It’s a big, bold call and frankly I’m making it. </div><div>Dance classes – in particular, cardio based dance-fitness classes, will make you happy. They will make you happy when you are sad. They will make you happy when the last thing you feel like doing is putting on Lycra. They will make you happy when you feel like you could scream your throat blood-red raw.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/qN4x-QyVenQ"/><div>Sometimes all you want to do is scream!</div><div>Before you roll your eyes in click bait exasperation - hear me out. </div><div>Last Thursday I had a bad afternoon. The combination of kids with unfinished and imminently due homework, and an unfortunate and untimely accident with a jar of hundreds and thousands, had left me in a foul mood. I didn’t feel motivated to go anywhere far from a television, a couch and a vodka on ice – double, straight, no straw and make that two please.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b41a333b59504b91b3d6a567d8515c40~mv2_d_4032_3024_s_4_2.jpg"/><div>They went everywhere. They are still EVERYWHERE.</div><div>Instead, I had a little chat with myself. The same chat I’ve had many, many times. On cold nights, on hot nights, at three months pregnant, at eight months pregnant, with a messy house, after an argument…you get the idea. The chat goes something like this (in a kind of sexy, yet soothing inner voice,) </div><div>‘It will make you feel better.</div><div>I know you don’t believe me now.</div><div>But it always does.’</div><div>So, I clad myself in Lycra and went to class.</div><div>Sure enough, one hour later, I was on a high, if not slightly delusional. Smiling away to myself on the drive home as I thought of the technicolor mess that would surely keep on giving for weeks as those tiny balls of sugar revealed themselves in the most unlikely places; and oh, those wacky, crazy kiddos of mine and the thrill of the last-minute rush.</div><div>Who is this woman? It’s me, after an hour of getting down on the dance floor.</div><div>It’s always the case.</div><div>And it’s not just me.</div><div>Everyone leaves dance class happy.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/y6Sxv-sUYtM"/><div>I was feeling really happy.</div><div>Last year a girlfriend, with no prior dance experience, accompanied me to a dance class. She said it was the only hour in the year her brain had quietened. The only hour she wasn’t focussed on her worries. She said she enjoyed it so much. That it made her happy.</div><div>And science agrees – dancing is beneficial to our overall well-being.</div><div>The combined characteristics of dance, such as: musicality, muscle memory, spacial awareness, social connection, artistic expression and physical exertion differentiate it from other forms of sport and exercise. Dance is a unique activity and has been researched extensively.</div><div>A 2016 study by Deakin University concluded that people who actively engage with music, by dancing with others, are happier than those who don’t. The findings indicated this was particularly true in the areas of personal relationships and community connectiveness. A key element of the results was the value of dancing with others. There was no differential in happiness between those who danced alone and those that didn't dance at all.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CGrXsn_d0Zk"/><div>Dancing with others - scientifically proven to make you happy.</div><div>(Actual class footage, Satori Studios with Edward Jacob Carbury, 2017 - <a href="http://www.baila.com.au">www.baila.com.au</a>.)</div><div>A study undertaken by Orebro University in Sweden concluded that regular attendance at moderate to vigorous paced group dance classes, is an effective intervention for improving the mental health of teen girls. The results of the study found the group experienced an increase in overall happiness, a reduction in the use of medications and a decrease in psychosomatic symptoms. </div><div>Research also indicates regular group dancing results in improved brain activity, a reduction in the onset of dementia and lessens the impact of depression and anxiety - goodbye cortisol, hello endorphins and welcome happiness.</div><div>This article is not a paid promotion (unfortunately, but I’m totally open to all offers.) I guess you could call it a Pretty Strong 40 community service because I am so passionate about the positive effects of dance on the body and mind and so curious as to why more of us aren’t busting a move on a regular basis. Especially considering we are born to dance.</div><div>Babies and toddlers of both sexes naturally love to wiggle their little bottoms to music. Not yet burdened with the knowledge of judgement, they don’t care what they look like. My ten-year-old still moves with wild, uncoordinated, almost life-threatening abandon. However, I know in my heart the days of his uninhibited gyrations are likely numbered. You see, for some reason, many Aussie’s stop dancing.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dT6Sb-ZKBjM"/><div>Born to dance.</div><div>Whether it be for cultural reasons, embarrassment or perhaps fear of looking ridiculous – many of us, with the exception of the occasional wedding and 21st party – rarely dance. We know this isn’t the case in all countries. For example, in Latin America and Greece social dancing is a cultural norm. </div><div>Our reluctance to dance is a possible reason why dance-fitness classes are such a niche market in Australia. Before the Zumba phenomenon, gyms were often reluctant to add dance to the menu, for fear their members would never order a dish they hadn’t tried before. There appears to be a misconception that you need prior experience to join a dance class. However, many dance classes, especially in gyms, are designed for the absolute beginner. I’ve written previously about the joys of trying new dance classes - <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/01/07/My-name-is-Suzie-I-have-DCW">click here to read.</a></div><div>Whatever the reasons are, I think it is a real shame so many of us are missing out on this natural, low cost and hang-over free source of instant happiness. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_9989b928e8a640e5bf97a4f968d3191f~mv2.jpg"/><div>A happy birthday is one where you dance with your friends.</div><div>I attended my niece’s seventh birthday last weekend. She had a party with all the girls in her class. At one point in the celebration I found myself front and centre leading an impromptu dance class. I gave the girls the best of my party repertoire. My moves covered at least three decades. They were loving it, I was loving it (perhaps a little too much) and I was totally thinking I’d nailed the cool aunty title. I watched my niece’s face as she followed along – it was so full of joy and artistic expression. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. Her happiness in that moment resonated so strongly with me. I saw more of myself in her expression than I ever had.</div><div>Australia, Pretty Strong 40s – if you haven’t already part way through this post - it’s time to put your dance shoes on. Find your inner toddler and let loose. There’s a reason why no one puts baby in the corner and she was happy to carry a watermelon. She was dancing. DON’T MISS OUT - get on it today. I promise, you will thank me.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_siGxV69MhQ"/><div> Baby had the time of her life - dancing!</div><div>Have you secretly always wanted to dance but haven’t? If yes, why? I’d love to know.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>How to Beat the Buffet Bulge</title><description><![CDATA[With a little planning, it is possible.I have finally reached that stage of life, where holidays with three boys have progressed from simply being the relocation of chaos from home to a less suitably equipped environment, to becoming a relaxing and (mostly) pleasurable experience. Our enjoyment has been greatly abetted by the discovery of the all-inclusive resort, aka the never-ending buffet.Over the past few years we have spent our Summer holidays eating our way through some gastronomically<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_4096f9df6cfd41b6b33aa3c59a16fb0a%7Emv2_d_1536_2048_s_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_305%2Ch_405/82974c_4096f9df6cfd41b6b33aa3c59a16fb0a%7Emv2_d_1536_2048_s_2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/01/14/How-to-Beat-the-Buffet-Bulge</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/01/14/How-to-Beat-the-Buffet-Bulge</guid><pubDate>Sun, 14 Jan 2018 07:05:35 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_4096f9df6cfd41b6b33aa3c59a16fb0a~mv2_d_1536_2048_s_2.jpg"/><div>With a little planning, it is possible.</div><div>I have finally reached that stage of life, where holidays with three boys have progressed from simply being the relocation of chaos from home to a less suitably equipped environment, to becoming a relaxing and (mostly) pleasurable experience. Our enjoyment has been greatly abetted by the discovery of the all-inclusive resort, aka the never-ending buffet.</div><div>Over the past few years we have spent our Summer holidays eating our way through some gastronomically amazing and occasionally disappointing buffets. </div><div>During this time I have, over-eaten, under-eaten, got down on my knees and praised the food Gods and been resuscitated from several food comas. Toward the end of our last holiday the phrase, ‘I’m all buffeted out’, could be heard by someone in our party at least once every hour. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_2ef9c16a0e7842b1813453b33555de10~mv2.jpg"/><div>Praise be Food Gods.</div><div>With a stomach full of experience, I’ve devised 'Seven Steps for Beating the Buffet Bulge.' I can’t guarantee you won’t get all ‘buffeted out’ at some point, but adopting some of these tactics should make for a more satisfying culinary experience. </div><div>However, if you are someone who has no intention of spending time on your holiday strategizing about food intake, then close this article now and have a Mars Bar on me. I fully support your endeavours - holidays are to be enjoyed as you please.</div><div>1. CASE THE JOINT</div><div>The moment you see something you like, it can be tempting to immediately pile it on your plate. However, there’s never been a better time to keep your options open. Avoid peaking too early. Look at what’s on offer, then return and select your favourites.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_8eb39be442644476933e81ccae2fc867~mv2.jpg"/><div>Take the edge off with a healthy start</div><div>2. STARVING? TAKE THE EDGE OFF</div><div>Take the edge off with a healthy starter. I usually begin with a broth style soup because it’s filling and healthy and I love soup. Other healthy options might include a delicious salad or a plate of lightly stir-fried vegetables. I find food always tastes better when I’m starving, so it’s a great time to get a healthy boost.</div><div>3.COMMIT</div><div>The United Nations may not agree, but my suggestion is to avoid mixing cuisines that were never meant to cross paths. I tend to stick to one food genre and work within what’s on offer. This will also narrow your options and assist with portion control. Speaking of which…</div><div>4. PORTION CONTROL</div><div>How often do you have eight to ten plates of food in one sitting? Probably not very often, so why start now? Perhaps go for the traditional running order of entree, main and dessert. Some nutritionists advise to choose a smaller plate that will fit less food. Personally, I like to see white space on a plate – I think it looks prettier and more appetising. Regardless, try to stick to your usual portions. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_951994f0a0c447918a467426eaf82272~mv2.jpg"/><div>A delicious way to end a meal. </div><div>5. CHOSE WISELY AND CUT SWIFTLY</div><div>I rarely waste calories eating foods I don’t like. My advice is, if you are not loving it – step away from the plate. Turn your back. It’s over baby.</div><div>If you are being extra good, some additional hints for healthy eating include:</div><div>*Look out for hidden sugars in sauces and drinks (especially cocktails.) </div><div>*Low GI/protein rich foods such as eggs, chicken and lean meats will help you feel satiated for longer.</div><div>*Don’t waste your carbohydrate intake by eating too much bread and rice.</div><div>*Consider fresh or dried fruit with cheese for dessert for a natural fibre and calcium hit.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_dc91c1bea60b4ac39323dba0e6f29656~mv2.jpg"/><div>Spoiled for choice.</div><div>6. TIMING AND LOCATION</div><div>Take time enjoying your food. Give your brain a chance to register that your stomach is full by waiting 10 minutes between courses.</div><div>Make life hard for yourself and strategically sit at an inconvenient location. Wedge yourself against a wall or sit as far away from the Bain Marie as possible and hope your lazy side kicks in.</div><div>7. DROP A BUFFET</div><div>If you feel like all you are doing is eating – drop a buffet. I did that today (after a late night) and I was excited to arrive hungry to lunch. Perhaps enjoy a big late breakfast and dinner or early lunch and dinner. </div><div>Good luck and may the buffet be with you (albeit only temporarily.)</div><div>Do you have any tips for eating out on holiday? I would love to hear them.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>My name is Suzie. I have DCW.</title><description><![CDATA[Just a couple of Pretty Strong 40s chillin' post class. Looking at the above photo I realise I'm currently suffering a serious case of DCW - Dance Class Withdrawal, whilst my instructors are on holidays. Symptoms include: breaking out into random dance moves at inappropriate times and places (apologies Coles Deli staff) and relentlessly pleading with Siri to find dance classes running over the Christmas break.Dance classes tend to be very instructor driven, in other words, the instructor makes<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_412dfe87d9b7491f80452d46bea2aaef%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/01/07/My-name-is-Suzie-I-have-DCW</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2018/01/07/My-name-is-Suzie-I-have-DCW</guid><pubDate>Sun, 07 Jan 2018 12:40:52 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_412dfe87d9b7491f80452d46bea2aaef~mv2.jpg"/><div>Just a couple of Pretty Strong 40s chillin' post class. </div><div>Looking at the above photo I realise I'm currently suffering a serious case of DCW - Dance Class Withdrawal, whilst my instructors are on holidays. Symptoms include: breaking out into random dance moves at inappropriate times and places (apologies Coles Deli staff) and relentlessly pleading with Siri to find dance classes running over the Christmas break.</div><div>Dance classes tend to be very instructor driven, in other words, the instructor makes the class. So, when I find an instructor I like, I’m hooked. The more I go, the more I need to inject classes into my life. I typically attend six, one-hour classes a week. Going cold turkey for three weeks is killing me. I’m in a cold sweat as I write.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Kf2yTXcO_hQ"/><div>Actual class footage - my dance class addiction</div><div>So, my bff for life – Siri, and I, were excited to discover Simone de la Rue was running a pop up dance-cardio class in Melbourne last week. Simone’s Body by Simone studios in New York and LA are the place to get your boogie on, for A-listers and regular folk alike. And she is on a Kardashian TV show. I don’t think it gets any bigger than that.</div><div>Fun fact - we were at high school together. I guess you could say I’m practically at 'girl squad' level with Khloe and Kim. Well, maybe not, but I remember Simone well and success could not have happened to a nicer person.</div><div>I discovered the class last minute and couldn't find anyone to come along with me (Siri was busy - another Tinder date.) I had the choice to go solo or not go at all.</div><div>My motto is always to just go. If you wait to find someone to come along every time you start something new, you might wait forever. As comforting as it is to walk through the door with a hand to hold, the reality is, when it comes to exercise classes, it really doesn’t matter. Once the music starts it’s every person for themselves. With all the endorphins flying around, group fitness classes are also a great way to make new friends. As they say in the legal profession, aka Legally Blonde, 'Exercise gives you endorphins; endorphins make you happy; happy people just don't shoot their husbands!'</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/TjrBdKXgYFY"/><div> Happy people don't shoot their husbands - they dance and make friends.</div><div>The class was a lot of fun and combined dance moves with aerobics and boxing. It reminded me that a talented instructor can make any class great. My advice is, if you come across an instructor you like, it might be worth trying out the different classes they teach. You never know, it may open you up to something new.</div><div>As much as I enjoyed sweating it out, my biggest take-away from the class was how unaffected by fame and down to earth Simone is. She gave me a big smile as soon as our eyes met and happily chatted about old school days after class. A healthy body and a healthy mind – now that’s something to aspire to.</div><div>Looks like it’s back to deli-dancing for one more week. Ham it up. Cheese that was good. Do the shaved salami. </div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/M6ww_oFE8DU"/><div>Want to learn to dance and get fit in the comfort of your own home (or anywhere?) Check out the 'Win My Workout' competition on the Pretty Strong 40 facebook page.</div><div>How are you coping with the Christmas shutdown period? Do you have any advice for me?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>There is nothing bigger than being smaller</title><description><![CDATA[Sorry Michael, you've been bumped for a bigger story.Like most of us, after 40 something years on the planet, I’ve enjoyed some exciting experiences and achievements. For example, when I was nine I won a disco dancing competition at the local skate rink and proudly took home a Chaka Khan record (that I never played as we didn’t have a record player, but I couldn’t have been happier), on safari in South Africa I bumped into Michael Jackson (as you do) and while working full-time and pregnant with<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_2716fc90d0dd424786bde6f4d6dc620a%7Emv2_d_3024_4032_s_4_2.jpeg/v1/fill/w_305%2Ch_406/82974c_2716fc90d0dd424786bde6f4d6dc620a%7Emv2_d_3024_4032_s_4_2.jpeg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/12/10/There-is-nothing-bigger-than-being-smaller</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/12/10/There-is-nothing-bigger-than-being-smaller</guid><pubDate>Sun, 10 Dec 2017 13:01:07 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_2716fc90d0dd424786bde6f4d6dc620a~mv2_d_3024_4032_s_4_2.jpeg"/><div>Sorry Michael, you've been bumped for a bigger story.</div><div>Like most of us, after 40 something years on the planet, I’ve enjoyed some exciting experiences and achievements. For example, when I was nine I won a disco dancing competition at the local skate rink and proudly took home a Chaka Khan record (that I never played as we didn’t have a record player, but I couldn’t have been happier), on safari in South Africa I bumped into Michael Jackson (as you do) and while working full-time and pregnant with my first child I earned a Master’s degree. In the context of my little world, I considered these to be major newsworthy items.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_709a72d4b89441e19f18ab7179a2a7dd~mv2_d_2873_2880_s_4_2.jpeg"/><div>Michael and me.</div><div>Yet, with all these experiences, nothing has incited more interest and curiosity than my weight loss last year. See <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/29/Theres-Something-About-Suzie">How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks.</a> Nothing. Not even my prized Chaka Khan single. </div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/hX9E44mClKs"/><div> I really loved my prize winning single.</div><div>The interest has been widespread, from men and women, of varying ages, occupations and backgrounds.</div><div>When I initially shared this observation with my sister the feminist in her was wildly mortified. ‘Don’t let all this attention about your weight define you.’ I knew what she meant. She didn’t want me attaching my self-worth to a number on the scales. At the time I viewed the reactions I received as overwhelmingly encouraging and motivating. But, as I would later discover, when it comes to something as personal as body weight, it’s hard not to be influenced by all the attention.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_f962f8aaeda8418d8c7b2de3fac2ae1f~mv2_d_2159_1718_s_2.jpeg"/><div>My sister - the sage (on the right.)</div><div>So why all the interest? I suspect because weight is a subject of universal interest. Most of us care about it. Many of us agonise over it. Lots of us spend far more time than we like contemplating losing it. </div><div>It’s why the media is saturated with weight loss stories.</div><div>It’s why quick fix weight loss teas and pills make it to market.</div><div>It’s why Spanx exist.</div><div>Whether we like it or not - we care.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d57554008c974fb5b55c55af5842da9b~mv2.jpg"/><div> The world-wide phenomenon of weight-loss based reality TV.</div><div>So, what did people say? Lots and lots of genuinely well-intentioned nice stuff that made me feel good. There were questions about how I did it and why. Some reflected on their own desires to improve their health and fitness. Others questioned my own health. A risky move had I been unwell but, in life, as we all know, people say a lot of things. For example, on a few occasions, I was quite dramatically pulled aside and told to ‘Stop!’, as apparently I was ‘too thin.’ Of course, at the time, I wasn’t offended. I was elated to be considered a tenant of the ‘thin’ category, having only recently moved in.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_37ecf3aa252b44cab8a08a32ca24b9c5~mv2_d_2400_2400_s_4_2.jpeg"/><div>Two holidays, nine months apart.</div><div>There were, however, three reactions that particularly stood out to me.</div><div>1. Wow, you look so different, I hardly even recognise you.</div><div>I’ve mentioned in previous posts that I lost a lot of weight quickly and because I tend to carry weight in my face, my appearance changed significantly. I also altered my hair colour from brunette to blonde. I looked different. The verbalisation of this fact was a perfectly natural reaction and one I wasn’t at all offended by. However, I did start to question, ‘Was I that bad before?’ And perhaps, more importantly, ‘Does this mean, in the eyes of the world, I am better now?’</div><div>2. Nothing, absolutely nothing.</div><div>I love my mother in law dearly and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind my sharing that for many years I affectionately called her the ‘human scales.’ She can be accurate to the last 500 grams. If I didn’t see her for more than a week I could be guaranteed a visual weigh in upon the next sighting. I ditched my actual scales as a full comparative report was always provided. Yet, when I lost a significant amount of weight she said, weight for it (ha, ha.) Not. One. Word. I had been looking forward to a congratulatory high five. Maybe even a ticker tape parade and a freshly made spanakopita with low-fat feta. But nothing. </div><div>Then in a twist I should have seen coming the local school crossing guard handed down the verdict, ‘I just saw your mother in law, she says, my daughter in law too skinny. My son too fat.’ And there you have it.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_efaa2bfe42e546318fbb23876606d055~mv2.jpeg"/><div>My MIL's typical celebratory spread - but it wasn't to be.</div><div>3. You looked great before.</div><div>My husband, my family and close friends all insisted I looked great at any size. When I recently joked about my face’s ability to store a disproportionate amount of fat, my mum said, ‘But I liked your chubby face,’ and she meant it. Which is lovely, but you know how it is with those close to us – I thought, ‘they have to say that.’</div><div>The other night I was at a primary school dinner. To my surprise, one of my girlfriends said, ‘Suzie, my husband thought you looked great before…’ Another friend agreed and said her husband had made the same comment. These friends were close enough for me to respect their opinion and independent enough for me to feel they didn’t have to say it. It’s funny how the most innocuous remarks can have the greatest impact. I went home that night feeling at peace with my former self. I needed to hear those comments. With all the focus and attention on my new physique I had written off my former physical self.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_1971ae1fbc3840f3afd76b0cecd9a8b7~mv2_d_2048_1536_s_2.jpeg"/><div>Happy in the body that delivered my three sons.</div><div>You see a worry had been lurking in the darkness of my mind. What if for some reason I put the weight back on? Life can change in an instant. Priorities can change. What if one of my kids needed all my attention and I couldn’t work out? Would my value lessen? Would I be considered a failure? Perhaps it sounds melodramatic (and granted I am melodramatic) but that little comment helped me realise something important. I was happy before all this. The people who mean the most still liked me (as did lots of others too.) It’s comforting to know and important to remember, no matter what happens on the scales, life will go on.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/6R3Zs7mNksU"/><div>My favourite scene from Shallow Hal. It was some not so shallow comments that calmed my fears.</div><div>Finally, back to my sister, and her sage comment about my weight defining me. The truth is my weight, how my body looks, does help define me – but only part of me. I work-out in some form nearly every day. I practically danced my way into the labour ward. So, for me, having a fit looking body feels more of a true visual representation of some of my greatest passions. </div><div>But that is where the definition stops. I’m pretty much the same woman with the same sense of humour and outlook on life as I’ve always been. Whilst I am more confident physically - and that confidence has spilled over into many aspects of my life, the essential ingredients that form me and furthermore define me, are the same. The hard part is not getting too caught up in it all and putting too much value and pressure on the physical self. That part I’m still figuring out. I’ll keep you posted. </div><div>Have you had a dramatic change to your appearance? How did people react?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks - Part 2</title><description><![CDATA[Lets get physicalHave you read Part 1? How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks - Part 1.As expected, the first session involved the scales. A full-blown weigh in with all kinds of statistics about body fat and muscle mass. ‘The moment of truth,’ Daniel had said. I hadn’t stepped on the scales for a long time - years. I had not been able to face what I knew would be confronting news. The moment of truth was 64kgs. Not a large number but, on my tiny frame and small stature, it was more than it needed to be.<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d0510e2a7ae44f8ca609c8cc76e33508%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/11/13/Theres-Something-About-Suzie---Part-2</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/11/13/Theres-Something-About-Suzie---Part-2</guid><pubDate>Mon, 13 Nov 2017 08:07:23 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_61cad4ffb54b495683ca11ae367a37a4~mv2.jpeg"/><div> Lets get physical</div><div>Have you read Part 1? <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/29/Theres-Something-About-Suzie">How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks - Part 1.</a></div><div>As expected, the first session involved the scales. A full-blown weigh in with all kinds of statistics about body fat and muscle mass. ‘The moment of truth,’ Daniel had said. I hadn’t stepped on the scales for a long time - years. I had not been able to face what I knew would be confronting news. </div><div>The moment of truth was 64kgs. Not a large number but, on my tiny frame and small stature, it was more than it needed to be. </div><div>Things started to get serious when a tape measure appeared. With tailor like precision it was swiftly flung around various body parts. ‘It’s important to record a baseline,’ Daniel assured me between positioning my limbs and notating measurements. ‘Then we can see how far you have come.’</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/NNULYPiOY3k"/><div>Video: The moment of truth is always memorable.</div><div>To my relief everything was very professionally, respectfully and tastefully accomplished. It was almost like being at the GP. There were no strange or horrified looks. No comments about never having witnessed my bare arms before.</div><div>Then the big question came.</div><div>‘How much weight do you want to lose?’</div><div>‘Five kilograms? I would love a flat stomach.’ I said, much like I was ordering soy sauce with my dim sims at the Fish and Chip counter.</div><div>‘Easy, done.’</div><div>Cue eye roll and laughter, from me of course. Not Daniel. He was completely serious.</div><div>‘It’s easily achievable Suzie.’ </div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cvP7cnmxlLM"/><div>Video: Lucky for me there was no such intimidation. </div><div>As I left the studio that day I met a fellow dancing buddy. She enquired about my first training session. I made a joke that my goal was to have a body like Jennifer Lopez. My friend laughed, frankly a little too heartily and said, ‘Stranger things have happened.’ In that moment the fire that was starting to build in my belly got a little brighter. ‘Yes, they have.’</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d0510e2a7ae44f8ca609c8cc76e33508~mv2.jpg"/><div> J.Lo. - 40 something body goals.</div><div>In the second session we started with the (torture) exercises.</div><div>It hurt.</div><div>It really hurt.</div><div>For the first few weeks I would pray for a phone call to reschedule. The call never came so I just kept going. Two times a week for 30 minutes. Every session was different. I discovered it was better not to know the pain that lay ahead.</div><div>Sometimes it felt like I wasn’t doing much. Other times I was close to death.</div><div>In parallel to training I was asked to follow a bespoke nutrition plan. I discovered diet is almost an offensive word in professional training circles. Perhaps because the word diet implies the short term – something you eventually come off. This was a plan for life - an education in how to eat.</div><div>At a high level, the plan is based on not eating carbohydrates (carbs) and fats together. Some days are marked just for eating fats, protein and vegetables, some days for carbs, protein and vegetables and other days you can eat whatever you like. In practice I found it relatively easy to follow because there weren’t any foods you couldn’t eat. It was just a matter of what day of the week you could eat them. </div><div>Food and my relationship with it is a whole topic within itself and one I will cover in future posts. For now, I’ll summarise by saying I took the same approach to food as I did training and for the most part, followed the plan.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/t8iTZm8-mbA"/><div>Video: My relationship with food will be covered in future posts.</div><div>Around week four some things had changed.</div><div>The pain had lessened.</div><div>I started to feel stronger.</div><div>I started to look stronger.</div><div>My waist introduced itself.</div><div>My arms shrunk.</div><div>My face had a smidgen of bone structure.</div><div>Oh, and I achieved my goal – I was five kilograms down. Woohoo!</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/J0A0Q0miIK8"/><div>Video: Working out at the training studio.</div><div>And for the first time in a long time, I looked forward to getting on the scales. Just once a week. Every Saturday after my dance classes. Before my shower (didn't want that excess water weight.) Each week I lost one or two kilograms. The results were extremely motivating. By week 12 I had lost 15 kilograms. My arms had tone. My stomach, after four pregnancies, was flat. I was completely beside myself with the achievement. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_3320929c198a407299c295fe834104a8~mv2_d_2048_2048_s_2.jpeg"/><div>Toning up.</div><div>And that’s how I did it. And that’s how I continue to do it. At one stage I even intentionally put on weight through muscle growth.</div><div>I know I’m making it sound easy, almost like I clicked my fingers and voila – toned and slender. You know what the funny part is? After years of deliberating, agonising, covering up and stressing about weight, the solution itself wasn’t as hard to implement and stick to as I thought it would be. The hard part was being in the right state of mind. Committing myself to doing something practical and achievable rather than daydreaming about overnight success. Then matching my determination and mindset to a solution that worked – one with longevity and some actual science behind it. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_5c56c77a157d4938bed37c662331a076~mv2_d_2048_2048_s_2.jpeg"/><div>I'm a self-made meme.</div><div>Without question who we are on the inside is far more important than who we are on the outside. But there is something to be said about feeling physically strong, fit and healthy. It’s hard to put a price on that feeling.</div><div>For me it’s not about being skinny. I don’t even like that description. I’m going to sound a little Oprahesque and meme like, but for me it’s about being the best version of you and that looks and feels different for everyone. And for the record my body isn’t the same as it was at 20 or 30. It has all the natural wear and tear that comes with age, having children and prior weight gain. Thank goodness for spray tans and push-up bras.</div><div>Finally, a shameless plug for my training studio and Ryan aka Daniel Jaime. To book a training session with Daniel call 0431 132 044. You can buy the nutrition plan online @ <a href="http://www.baila.com.au">www.baila.com.au</a>. Or to join me for a dance class check out Satori Studios @ <a href="http://www.satori-studios.com">www.satori-studios.com</a>, I'd love to see you and you never know, stranger things could happen to you too.</div><div>What do you think? Do you agree mindset is the key? Have you had a similar experience? I would love to hear about it.</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Saved by Sugar</title><description><![CDATA[In 2016 I lost 20 kilograms in 3 months. On the outside, I looked like a different woman. I remember arriving to pick my son up from a party and momentarily not being recognised by the party boy’s parents.It would be fair to say the physical change was not only quick, it was dramatic. You see it turns out I'm one of those unfortunate people that carries a lot of weight in their face, so when I lost weight, my face changed too. Even though the number on the scales went down, it took me a while to<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_3bfd92ba309743539d2ebb9e82fb5cf0%7Emv2_d_2400_2400_s_4_2.jpg/v1/fill/w_305%2Ch_305/82974c_3bfd92ba309743539d2ebb9e82fb5cf0%7Emv2_d_2400_2400_s_4_2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/09/06/Saved-by-Sugar</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/09/06/Saved-by-Sugar</guid><pubDate>Sun, 05 Nov 2017 08:11:00 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div>In 2016 I lost 20 kilograms in 3 months. On the outside, I looked like a different woman. I remember arriving to pick my son up from a party and momentarily not being recognised by the party boy’s parents.</div><div>It would be fair to say the physical change was not only quick, it was dramatic. You see it turns out I'm one of those unfortunate people that carries a lot of weight in their face, so when I lost weight, my face changed too. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_3bfd92ba309743539d2ebb9e82fb5cf0~mv2_d_2400_2400_s_4_2.jpg"/><div>Even though the number on the scales went down, it took me a while to accept my body had changed. I think there is some kind of transformer in our brain that converts what we see in the mirror or even in photos, to what we think we should see. I say this because I didn’t think I looked all that different.</div><div>I remember selecting a pair of jeans at the shops and asking the sales assistant for a size 12. “Honey, I think you will fit the 8.” Come again?</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Qw9oX-kZ_9k"/><div>Above video: What you talking about sales assistant?</div><div>The driver to significantly change something in your life varies from person to person. When it comes to weight loss, for example, it might be the shock of seeing an overly revealing photo or a thoughtless comment from a concerned friend (you know the type.)</div><div>So what drove me to lose weight? Funny, but even though I had not been overly happy with my appearance, in fact sometimes downright depressed, my desire for change was not driven by my looks.</div><div>For me, it happened one Sunday night. I had been relaxing on the couch while my husband and three boys slept. I’d decided to take this moment of late night solitude to the next level and open all the downstairs doors, inviting in a warm summer breeze. The Real Housewives of New York kept me company as I sipped ice-cold lemonade from a tall glass. Things couldn't have been going better. Then, as I was gleefully sipping and watching away, it occurred to me to find out how much sugar was in my lemonade. Perhaps it was the countless Facebook posts about the dangers of sugar, or maybe it was a passing comment by one of New York's famous housewives, whatever it was (and for the life of me I can't remember) I suddenly became very curious.</div><div>I located the bottle in the fridge and read the nutrition table on the back - 11 grams of sugar per 100 ml. Didn’t sound like much. Got the sugar. Got the scales. Got a big shock. The sugar looked as though a white ant farm had formed over the scales, one that could house several million ants!</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7HRpgDVlh7o"/><div>Above video: Re-enactment - How much sugar is there in a 500 ml glass of lemonade?</div><div>It had been my third lemonade that day. </div><div>It appeared I had a drinking problem - of the non-alcoholic kind.</div><div>I'd felt nauseous. Seeing all that sugar coupled with the knowledge of how much I had already consumed was extremely confronting. I kept thinking about my body having to continually process all that sweetness and the consequences for my health. </div><div>I returned to the couch and frantically googled sugar-free diets. I downloaded free e-samples for inspiration and ideas. I decided then and there to significantly cut back on sugar.</div><div>That was 18 months ago and I haven't had lemonade since.</div><div>That night marked the start of my FIT@40 journey. There would be many more decisions and many more dramatic commitments. </div><div>Have you had a similar experience? What was your defining moment?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks - Part 1</title><description><![CDATA[18 months ago and today.There is no way I am getting a personal trainer.Ever.Personal trainers are for Hollywood movie stars or Real Housewives.Not for me. And anyway, I had my dancing for exercise.I’ve always loved to dance. I have an early childhood memory of skipping around our 1970’s deep orange wooden dining table, as the record player blared Nana Mouskouri. When I was five years old my mum sent me to ballet and tap classes and I’ve been dancing ever since. Dance has been a constant through<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_e6c14c8d9e384dc384899113ecb24cc9%7Emv2_d_2048_2048_s_2.jpeg/v1/fill/w_305%2Ch_305/82974c_e6c14c8d9e384dc384899113ecb24cc9%7Emv2_d_2048_2048_s_2.jpeg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/29/Theres-Something-About-Suzie</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/29/Theres-Something-About-Suzie</guid><pubDate>Sat, 04 Nov 2017 10:28:00 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_e6c14c8d9e384dc384899113ecb24cc9~mv2_d_2048_2048_s_2.jpeg"/><div>18 months ago and today.</div><div>There is no way I am getting a personal trainer.</div><div>Ever.</div><div>Personal trainers are for Hollywood movie stars or Real Housewives.</div><div>Not for me. And anyway, I had my dancing for exercise.</div><div>I’ve always loved to dance. I have an early childhood memory of skipping around our 1970’s deep orange wooden dining table, as the record player blared Nana Mouskouri. When I was five years old my mum sent me to ballet and tap classes and I’ve been dancing ever since. Dance has been a constant through all stages of my life. I even danced my way through pregnancy – right up to the week before giving birth.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_8b3d6e1360b74aaa80195dacca63f298~mv2.jpg"/><div>Dance has always been a constant in my life. Even as an 8 year old brunette.</div><div>So, when my young, buff and exceptionally fit Latin dance instructor, who also doubled as a personal trainer, approached me to train with him, I politely smiled and privately balked.</div><div>A nice little side effect of cutting back on sugar (see - <a href="https://suzieholidayhoward.wixsite.com/prettystrong40/single-post/2017/09/06/Saved-by-Sugar">Saved By Sugar</a>) was that I had lost a few kilos. My dance teacher noticed and suggested he could easily and quickly further my progress by training me, if I wanted to. Of course I wanted to, but I couldn’t imagine completely exposing all my body flaws to someone who didn’t appear to have any.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rbH_RrOAAfA"/><div>My ideal personal trainer.</div><div>My ideal personal trainer would answer to the job description: experienced female drill sergeant in the twilight of her career, looking for one last hurrah. Ability to yell gut wrenching verbal abuse essential. Ability to accept excuses – zero.</div><div>Not the Latino Ryan Gosling.</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/05Lstwyt984"/><div>No caption required.</div><div>Besides I had always thought having a personal trainer was an expensive extravagance. </div><div>But there was something niggling at me – something about Mary in fact.</div><div>Mary was glowing.</div><div>Mary trained with the Latino Ryan Gosling whose actual name is Daniel Jaime, and swore by it. She said it was the most beneficial exercise she had ever done. Not only had she lost weight but she had toned up and felt healthier. It really showed, she looked fantastic.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d75c900138dd4a268ce5f67d25e6afb8~mv2.jpeg"/><div>Ryan Gosling aka Daniel Jaime.</div><div>A few nights later I was sitting on the couch in front of the tv, where I make all my big decisions. I was scrolling through Facebook when a post advertising a special promotion to train with Daniel appeared. I had been thinking about it a lot. I wanted to improve my physique and the idea of having something to commit to was appealing. Although after three kids I was unsure how much I could achieve.</div><div>I’m not someone who has endured a life long struggle with their weight. There had been a few periods in my 20s where I gained some ‘loved up’ handles, but nothing significant. For the most part I was slender.</div><div>That all changed after I met my husband and had children. Even though I exercised regularly and intensely, my weight fluctuated. I accepted that weight gain was a natural part of ageing and being a mum and figured my slender days were behind me. In retrospect I think I was in denial about how much sugar I was consuming through drinks and carbohydrate rich foods like rice and savory biscuits.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_d3661c86f6e84bea85696409925d9dff~mv2_d_1600_1200_s_2.jpeg"/><div>About to meet my first born.</div><div>With young children to care for my mind was less on myself than it had ever been. I didn’t particularly like the weight gain and would dress to conceal the parts of my body I was sensitive about. But when it came to actually doing something about losing weight, I would describe myself as apathetic. My passionate weight loss ideas were usually conceived on a Sunday night, on the couch of course, and forgotten over a large fruit juice and buttery vegemite toast Monday morning.</div><div>Back to the couch… Always a fan of using a special offer to justify my decisions, I drafted an email to Daniel suggesting I was ready to give training a go. I closed my eyes, winced wildly and hit send.</div><div>The next day a message arrived. A start date and time. Talk of a weigh in. A. WEIGH. IN. OMG it was really happening. I had officially exercised my birthright to change my mind. I had a personal trainer.</div><div>I committed to giving it my absolute best. If I was going to spend the time and the dollars training, I would completely give myself over to the process, apply all the advice and work as hard as I could.</div><div>I remember the first session. I even remember what I wore because it was so significant for me.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_b6fc3845559747a089f2d2f8eca97397~mv2.jpg"/><div>Off to dance class wearing the infamous mesh top.</div><div>I’ve mentioned before I tend to carry weight in my face. I also tend to carry it in my arms. Thanks to a few insensitive remarks I had a major hang up about my arms. I always covered them. Even in the height of summer I would dance at full throttle wearing a long sleeve mesh top. </div><div>In the spirit of my newfound commitment I put on a black tank top. </div><div>My white doughy arms in full view.</div><div>I kept regarding myself from all angles in my bedroom mirror. I felt extremely self-conscious. I took a selfie and sent it to my sister. What did she think? How bad did I look? My sister and I had danced together since we were children. She knew my allegiance to that ratty mesh top.</div><div>So why the sudden change? I knew it was time to dress in appropriate exercise clothes. It was one thing to be in a dance class where I could blend into the background. Wearing long sleeves when vigorously exercising is a hot affair. Boiling. Sweaty. Itchy. I didn’t fancy such an existence one on one.</div><div>After some reassuring words from the middle sister, I decided to do it. It would be a while before I bared my arms in a dance class, but I left the house that day wearing a tank top. A big mental milestone for me. </div><div>Can you relate? Do you have any body hang ups? </div><div>Want to know what happened next? <a href="https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/11/13/Theres-Something-About-Suzie---Part-2">Read How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks -Part 2</a></div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AUfnCTNiHs4"/><div>Trailer - How I lost 15kgs in 12 weeks - Part 2</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title>Why life @ 40 is better than ever</title><description><![CDATA[I remember when my parents turned 40. Both Aquarians it happened within days of each other. I would have been about 13. The house was flooded with cards and conversation about being ‘over the hill.’ I recall neither Mum or Dad were happy about reaching this milestone. ‘We’re getting old Suz,’ Dad would say.Mum was convinced she looked good for her advanced age. ‘People still think I’m in my early 30s you know,’ she would say in her West Indian drawl. For some reason when my mum makes bold<img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_a385699b30fd45d5b6c882131f68d3c3%7Emv2.jpg"/>]]></description><dc:creator>Suzanne Pappas</dc:creator><link>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/11/Welcome-to-life-40</link><guid>https://www.prettystrong40.com.au/single-post/2017/10/11/Welcome-to-life-40</guid><pubDate>Sat, 04 Nov 2017 02:48:00 +0000</pubDate><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div>I remember when my parents turned 40. Both Aquarians it happened within days of each other. I would have been about 13. The house was flooded with cards and conversation about being ‘over the hill.’ I recall neither Mum or Dad were happy about reaching this milestone. ‘We’re getting old Suz,’ Dad would say.</div><div>Mum was convinced she looked good for her advanced age. ‘People still think I’m in my early 30s you know,’ she would say in her West Indian drawl. For some reason when my mum makes bold statements, the West Indian part of her accent over powers the Australian.</div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_a385699b30fd45d5b6c882131f68d3c3~mv2.jpg"/><div>My Trinidadian Mum looking good at 40 .</div><div>As a teenager watching and critiquing my parent’s every move - in particular mum’s every move - I learnt two important things about turning 40. 40 is old. Even worse - you don’t want to look 40.</div><div>At 13 however, 40 seemed a life-time away. There were no arguments from me - 40 was old. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_78020d97fdcb49ee9d78da8eb77541a3~mv2_d_3024_4032_s_4_2.jpeg"/><div>40 was a lifetime away at 13.</div><div>Fast forward 27 years, I didn’t have the same level of horror and trepidation as my parents. Perhaps because at the time I was exactly where I wanted to be - I'd become a mum to three boys. Of all the things I ever wanted to achieve in life, that was the one I wanted the most. My younger self just assumed it would happen. My 30 something self hadn't been quite so confident, especially after experiencing a rocky start, like so many do. I was grateful to have children, well when I wasn't rocking myself back and forth in the foetal position.</div><div>I had lots of ambitions on the road to 40. A bunch of these I fulfilled, such as travelling the world and studying abroad. Some remain unfulfilled and frankly look like staying that way. Jason Priestly and I never happened. I didn't become a roving reporter on Entertainment Tonight with Leeza Gibbons, as my 16 year old self had imagined. I never grew to like coffee, like mum said I would. </div><img src="http://static.wixstatic.com/media/82974c_5d04c3bd592e42d7a4e0abcf595acd3a~mv2.jpeg"/><div>We weren't to be.</div><div>Seriously though, turning 40 didn’t really bother me. </div><div>I recall one of my girlfriends, in her mid 30s, lamenting that she had started attending 40th birthday parties. She had gasped with mock revulsion. They weren’t her friends turning 40, they were her husband’s, but it was enough to freak her out. She was not ready to turn 40 by association.</div><div>It made me wonder, why do we freak out?</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/i0GW0Vnr9Yc"/><div>Don't panic!</div><div>Apart from some of the physical appearance downsides, most of which can be improved upon with modern medicine (if that’s your thing and for the record I’m all for whatever works) turning 40 and being in your 40s should be celebrated. I am serious. We should be out and proud and screaming from the rooftops ‘World, I am 40. Give me a high five and a low five!’</div><iframe src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/XRbIiZ89V6o"/><div>Our 40s - the destination of choice.</div><div>Yes, our 40s should be a destination of choice. Something to strive for. We are the smartest we have ever been, we are probably earning more money than we ever have, we've very likely made some big grown-up decisions about career, marriage, having children and where to live. We know what we like and, perhaps more importantly, what we don’t. Many of us are now blessed with friendships spanning decades and have some relationship war stories that could add intrigue to any camp fire chat.</div><div>Ladies and gents, wear the 4 (insert number) with pride. We made it. We know some stuff and we are ready to learn new stuff. There is still plenty of time to go for our dreams, whatever they may be. And when we do, we will have the benefit of experience and wisdom holding our hand along the way. None of this ‘over the hill’ business. Life in our 40s can be better than ever. High five, low five! </div><div>What do you think? How do or did you feel about turning 40?</div></div>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>