This may be the most boring post on this blog.
I mean, even the title makes you want to skip ahead. Next please.
But if by some kindness, or affinity for my ramblings, you are still reading, Cheers.
The part about the title? Well, I’m glad you asked.
I am referring to the name of this blog. The Protein Fart.
(Editors note (ok, well, MY note) – As you can probably tell, I have indeed changed the name of this blog. I will write about why another time. Or read the rest of THIS post and you’ll probably figure it out. You are smart.)
As many of you know (like, all 5 of the people who read it – Hi Mum) I began the blog as an offshoot of my business. You know, that time I was a nutritional therapist for 5 and a half minutes? (I will go into that another time).
So, the blog was about the gym, about health and well-being, and various vegetables
Anyone that has been a dedicated gym junkie like I was (Hello, My name is Meg, and I am a recovering kettle bell swinger) knows that if you lift weights, then you are probably also delving into the dark world of protein supplements. (The treadmill is a gateway machine, remember you were warned).
So, of course, you know, I came up with the title The Protein Fart and all that. Plus, my thoughts often feel like farts, ideas like a gaseous expulsion.. yada yada.
Now I am feeling like it’s just a bit redundant. Not the blog, just the name. Mostly because it’s been a year since I was a paying member of a gym (I recently tried to use a trial pass and they told me it had not been long enough since the last time I tried to use a trial pass and that I would need to please go home and come back with actual money.Needless to say I was exceedingly disheartened – I had packed my mini shampoos. Which I was super proud of. Read Here to see why).
Where was I? Oh right, I don’t gym anymore. Okay, well I do yoga, but in the privacy of my own home, or a rock at the beach, or in a playground filled with people, you know – namaste and all. And obvs I am happy to talk about the joys and benefits of downward dogs till the proverbial comes home, but… eh…. I just don’t know how interesting it is to
me people anymore.
I have been doing a lot of walking lately. Like, a lot. And layers and layers of ideas (or brain farts, if I may) have been making their way out of my hippocampus (hooray, now I can tag this post with ‘psychology’) and into the part that tells me I need to write them down before the dementia really sinks in.
They are thoughts about parenting, cock ups and all; Marriage, cock ups and all; Creativity (which always feels like a cock up, but is in fact just genius in the making, cough cough) And the list goes on. And whilst health, fitness, and well-being in general are still very pertinent to my life, I want to spread the scope a little. If you know what I mean.
So, without digressing any further, I feel like I need an answer to this conundrum. Ok conundrum is probably a little over board. (And a little narcissistic if I may). But…
The Protein Fart.
Redundant? Or confusingly interesting enough to make you want to look, scratch your head, look around, and conclude that it’s just a ‘creative thing’.
Would you still read this if
I paid you because it makes me look better it was about parenting and life choices (Like when you pay your teenager to drop you at the pub coz it’s cheaper than an Uber? ) Or about being a 34-year-old woman (and people assuming you are your son’s girlfriend?) Or about how it feels to be married at 16 (And not in a West Coast cult)?
Oh, I am actually asking here….
Drop me a comment. Or a name suggestion (‘I was a child bride’ is probably already taken… and isn’t quite as satirical as you’d hope).
Or, I keep the name. For the memories. Like an addict keeps a 30 day chip next to their bed.