Transport travesty

PT

What the f**k is wrong with people? Is it not common courtesy to stand up for people who are elderly, have a disability, are pregnant or have small children? Or in fact, anyone who looks like they need or deserve to sit down more than you?

If that’s the case, then why do so many people chose to sit in seats reserved for these people. I don’t mind people sitting there but it’s a temporary seat and should be treated as such.

When someone walks onto the train in need of a seat, these people just look down – pretending they don’t see you.

To those people, you are disgusting. You are a sad person and quite frankly I hope someone stamps on your foot. Catching public transport is no easy task for any regular commuter.  So being seven and a half months pregnant makes it just that little bit more tricky – it’s not like I’m in the early stages and people are playing fat or preggo – there is a baby in here, it’s pretty f**king obvious.

This morning was a prime example of that.

I catch the train to work every morning from Carnegie station between 7.20am and 7.45am (it just depends on what type of morning I’m having).

This morning I waited patiently for the train and when it turned up it was fairly full.

I patiently waited while a handful of other people pushed passed me and onto the train but when I went to board no one moved. No one.

I literally stood there while people just stared at me and made no attempt to move down into the aisles.

I felt like yelling ‘um, are you serious? Move the f**k down’.

I backed away from the train thinking, it’s ok, I’ll just get the next one.

It was at this point I texted my husband.

“Sometimes I can’t get on the train because it’s too full and I’m too big” followed by a sad face.

The next train rolled in and I got on, moving to a semi-safe place where I could at least hold on to a rail.

I was standing in front of four men, four young men all sitting in seats reserved for people in need.

And not one of them moved. Not one.

They just looked down, pretending not too see my 33 week belly almost poking them in the face.

There’s a saying which goes ‘if looks could kill’, well let me tell you – I was staring holes into their heads thinking ‘look at me, I dare you’.

It’s not that I necessarily am in dire need of sitting down, but seriously, whatever happened to just being considerate?

And more to the point, it’s dangerous to be standing. What if the train stops suddenly? What if I faint? What if someone falls on me?

We had just left South Yarra station when one woman sitting at the back of the carriage said ‘Oh, would you like to sit down?’

I told her thank you very much but I’m getting off at the next station. But I couldn’t resist by saying “it would have been nice if all these people (referring to said four men still sitting) had looked up, it’s quite sad really”.

I got off at the next stop and I actually felt like crying.

I’m about to bring a baby into this world. A world where people no longer show the respect and kindness that I’m sure has been shown to them on at least one occasion in their lives.

I’m no parenting expert but I’ll be damned if I bring up my baby the way these people seem to have been brought up.

And as for the sign that says “on request these seats should be vacated” – not on request, grow a pair and get off your arse – fool.

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Exercise overkill

Gym meme

It’s highly possible I’ve been hit by a truck.

This was my first thought Thursday morning as I awoke from my slumber, feeling as though I was stapled to the bed. I threw back the duvet cover and thought ‘brilliant, my arms still work’, but when it came to moving my legs it just wasn’t going to happen. I quite literally had to hold onto the side on the bed base and lift myself to an upright position.

I stood up, and it was worse than I thought.

I then spent the rest of the day wincing when attempting to sit on the loo and just generally trying to not stand up once I’d sat down. I dropped my hair tie on the ground and opted to leave it there. The pain of bending down just wasn’t worth it. Hair down it was.

You see what had happened was this: Pump and Yoga . . . in the same day.

Mr Knees and I have recently returned from vacation (I do apologise for the lack of posts in the past month, we were super busy gallivanting across Europe and eating and drinking our body weight in cake and beer).

So, upon returning home I decided serious action was needed to make up for said uncontrollable eating.

First things first, food. I went straight to the supermarket and only bought salad ingredients. Perfect. I even went as far as looking in other people’s baskets and then back at my own and smirking at them. What a jerk.

I ate salad that whole week. Yes way. The weekend however, was a slightly different story. We won’t go into that.

Then last week I thought ‘right, it’s time to reintroduce exercise’.

So I started with a walk home. A casual 7.5kms, felt pretty good the next day so said yes to lunch-time pump at the gym across the road with one of my girlfriends from work. I played it cool, selecting the lightest weights, knowing I was likely to die during this class. I didn’t die. But by God those muscles were moved. There is no way I did not burn some serious calories. We did 5000 squats and several hundred lunges, followed by arms, abs, or in my case flabs, and all the other food groups, opps muscle groups too.

I left there feeling great, energised and ready to take on the world. I had semi-forgotten I had planned another date that night, yoga with another GF. But it was all good, endorphins had kicked in and I was going to SMASH IT.

I definitely did not smash it. I kind of just whined and faked my way through it, commenting at one point that I thought I might have broken my special parts and perhaps this was the worst day of my life.

I limped home, had a nice hot shower and called it a day.

So there you have it, how not to exercise.

But, there is a silver-lining. I now don’t have to do any exercise because I’m still learning to walk again.