Jabs ’n’ abs


Diary of a Homebird
Ciara Galvin

IF I had a Philippine Peso for every time I started back on a health kick, well, I’d be sorted for my holiday to the Philippines in just over two weeks.
Myself and the bridies are off on an eleven-day trip to the Southeast Asian country, but being the Queen of Procrastination I made every excuse not to book the flights myself.
‘I haven’t been paid yet’, ‘I’ll book when everybody else has’, but my besties knew what was really going on. I was afraid I’d end up booking a one-way ticket to Yemen by mistake.
I love travelling and really wish I had the unlimited budget to head off to the great unknown more often, but I sweat the small stuff, like finding my gate at the airport. I could really do with my own personal travel agent and, realistically, babysitter.
With just one month to takeoff, I finally got round to booking the flights, unsupervised. One morning before dashing to court (reporting, not appearing) I took out the iPad and hastily checked if I could get the exact same flights as my bestie Sharon.
Usually people booking a holiday to a far-flung destination would be researching flights for weeks in advance. Me? Nah. I just searched the website for the times that matched Sharon’s. I got them too. Fingers crossed.
The following day it was time to get our vaccinations. Though we’re trying to do it all on a budget, I didn’t fancy risking Typhoid or Hepatitis A by not forking out for injections.
The consultation got off to a rocky start, we spelled the name of the country wrong (one L or two, gets me every time) and we couldn’t remember the last time we got vaccinations. Dogs have it so handy, don’t they?
The doc was all decked out, complete with world map tie (maybe this was subconsciously supposed to make us want more vaccines for all the other holidays we’d love to book).
He told us the many risks of visiting a country like The Philippines – rabies, malaria, severe diarrhoea etc. One bit of advice stood out for myself and my vaccination buddy Niamh: Don’t eat salad. “Woo hoo,” I thought, “the girly holiday of my dreams! We can’t eat fruit or salad; guess it’s carbs all round.”
The vaccinations weren’t too painful, but the ‘slight’ dead arms we were warned of stuck around for two whole days, making a recent hen weekend all the more testing when trying to lift a glass to my mouth every so often! I struggled through, you’ll be glad to hear.
Although I cannot wait for carb heaven (doctor’s orders), I’m in the middle of going back to my health kick for the umpteenth time. I figure I’ll at least make an attempt to get rid of the belly before piling it back on. So far, I’ve been fairly okay responding to my 6.45am alarm. The diet is proving more difficult though, as I’m writing this I’m just after consuming a chicken, mayo and melted cheese sandwich.
I need a miracle … or a 48-hour pre-holiday bug to shed some pounds. Perhaps the jabs were a bad idea after all.

> In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old still living with her parents.