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Pies, potatoes and poison


Diary of a home bird
Ciara Galvin

NOW that I’m heading into my fourth decade, oh wow, that sounds dreadful, I’m back on the health buzz. I know, I know, you’ve heard it all before, but this time I’ve the worry of middle aged spread to motivate me. Ok, maybe I’m being a little dramatic, but having the appetite of an Irish rugby international and not exerting any actual energy is catching up on me, and I’m blaming age. I decided last January that I wanted to look great for my birthday and by great I mean, I wanted a body transplant and hoped Emily Ratajkowski fancied a swap.
But like the lyrics of Don McLean’s American Pie, ‘February made me shiver’ ‘With every takeaway I’d deliver, Bad news on the sadstep (weighing scales), I couldn’t take one more step’...from all the food I was consuming. A slight reworking, but let me assure you, some American pie also added to the poundage gain.
I do need to chill out about the thoughts of turning, ahem, 30, but having procrastinated about exercise for the past five months, I now find myself trying to lose a dress size in a matter of weeks.
I’ve enlisted the help of my buddy Conor Keane of Momentum Performance and he’s enjoying seeing me close to tears on the exercise bike and rower. The early mornings are testing. Pulling myself out of bed at 6.30am is a workout in itself, wrestling with the warm duvet cover that wants to wrap itself around me for another two or three hours. The dedication is there though, I’m even getting up on my days off to work out at 6.45am. In saying that, sometimes (always) I do make a return to my beloved bed. But hey, I see it as part of my diet and exercise plan...Sure if I’m sleeping I’m not eating, right?
I joined a tag rugby team also, the TAGtics. On the plus side I’ve met some great people, on the downside, my knees got the brunt of it. Most weeks I looked like a had a fight with a street pavement and for someone hoping to get the legs out for the birthday celebrations, it’s not ideal. A bath of arnica needed.
I’m on the clean food bandwagon too. It’s all eggs and smoked salmon these days. I’m surprised Apache Pizza haven’t issued a missing person campaign.
I’ve been trying to meal prep, but as my parents continue to despair how to evict me they’re turning to Soviet-like measures. Recently I was prepping some sweet potato, turkey burgers, the works. A kettle of boiling water was left on the sink so I made use of it, pouring it onto my potatoes to boil. A few minutes later Madre walks over to the sink, opens the kettle and exclaims, ‘Oh great, all that limescale is gone’. Putting two and two together I ran to the sink with the pot. Refusing to throw the sweet potato out I gave them multiple rinses and hoped for the best.
I jokingly told the female roomie it was a ‘nice try’ but she’d have to think bigger to get rid of me. I may have to employ a food taster like George ‘Dubya’ Bush used to have.

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.