and now for the weather...

It's going to be windier than a baked beans convention... depending of course on how many delegates there are. All joking aside, if you're going to be marching tomorrow, you'd better hang on to your hats.

No kidding, that was the latest weather update on our local substitute for Channel Seven!

I don't think I've ever used the chinstrap on my service dress hat. I don't think there's any other way (short of wedging the hat right onto my head) of keeping it from blowing away in the wind, either.

At least it's not going to rain?

how can you have any pudding?

Part of my competency log training is a checksheet on identifying different cuts of meat. Presumably so I can do an accurate stocktake of meat we've got in the freezers and fridges, as well as sign for deliveries and check them off properly. Although I've been doing this for almost two years, and I've even got posters of Australian Beef/Sheep/Pork primal cuts on the walls of my room, it's still my kryptonite.

I don't remember being explicitly told that meat came from dead animals. I think I've been fed meat for as long as I can recall any memories of eating. I can't really remember a time where I've not eaten meat, apart from when I've been too poor to afford any, or phases of inspired vegetarianism like when we did the butchering unit at TAFE and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was dissecting, cooking, then eating corpses for a living.

One strange thing about the Chinese language (or at least, in Mandarin) is that there is no word for pork. The word for pork is actually 'meat'. I guess a rough translation of beef would be 'cow meat', and fish/chicken have their own separate words, but perhaps when you eat so much pig meat, it's just a matter of efficiency to just call it meat and let everyone assume that it's pork unless otherwise specified.

It wasn't until I moved out of home, and started exploring various Chinese restaurants, as well as eating all manner of other foods, that I realised how much of what my parents cooked for me as a kid truly revolved around pork. I found it odd that a friend of mine at my 16th birthday would mention how she didn't eat pork, and disliked it so much that if she did eat any, she'd throw up... what's to fear? It's not like there's pork everything on the menu! Wasn't as tricky a situation as for vegetarian friends of mine, anyway...

So there's all these dishes that I don't know the proper Chinese or English names for, that I sometimes wish I could order at a restaurant. Pork dumplings and pork spring rolls are easy enough to find, as are barbecue pork buns. You know how you can get barbecue pork just cut up in special fried rice, or even chopped up for a take-home pack from some restaurants, you know, the ones with the ducks hanging in the window? It has that bright red tomatoey looking coating on the outside... as kids we called that 'red meat'. My Dad used to make us this marinated braised pork belly dish that I used to love with congee... because of the soy and whatever else was in the marinade, the pork belly was dubbed 'brown meat'. I didn't even know what congee was until just a few years ago, it was called something that I think translates to 'wet rice'.

Then there was this meatloaf kind of thing Dad made, which I think was just leftover dumpling filling moulded into the base of a bowl, with an egg cracked into a dent in the top of it, then it was steamed until it was cooked. You could break off bits of it with chopsticks or a fork and eat it with rice. This classic was simply called 'meatball'. I had all sorts of favourites - meat with bamboo shoots (which I didn't connect with pandas, as a kid!), meat with celery, meat with tofu, meat with Chinese spinach, meat with minced mushrooms. I don't know how they managed to do it, but my parents managed to feed me a million variations of pork without me being conscious or even annoyed with the constant source of meat. It was like a ghetto version of Iron Chef, but the secret ingredient is always pork. Just don't tell the kids!

Which brings me back to a year of vague attempts at discerning veal from beef, topside from rump, knuckle from collar, and meat from... meat. I totally blitzed my theory tests during the meat unit at TAFE, because I studied the primal cuts like a doctor would cram anatomy, but when it's not me that's done the breakdown from animal to chunk of something wrapped in plastic, I struggle.

My parents' parents would probably laugh at my so-called misfortune and tell me to stop trying to label it, just be grateful and cook/eat it instead.

in defence of defence

DEFENCE FORCE FATTIES screamed the headline of The Daily Telegraph on an ill-fated morning whilst I tried to enjoy my usual weekend breakfast of glee. The online article has the less sensational headline of 'Defence Force Obesity Epidemic', but you get the idea. Apart from the immediate guilt at scoffing down the breakfast of champions (I think it was the vegetarian big breakfast with scrambled eggs, but I can't quite remember), and having recently failed my Physical Fitness Test multiple times, I was taken aback by the image in the paper of 'Hot chicken heroes':


Fortunately, the surname patch on the left side of HCH#1 has been craftily edited out on the online version of the photograph, but nothing seemed to stop the newspaper from printing the unedited version in several hundred copies. The soldier's rank is obscured by the kebab, but due to the Australian flag on the arm of HCH#2, and noting that the caption mentions the photo was taken in Brisbane, it probably wouldn't be able to find out who HCH#1 probably is. Regardless of whether anyone can narrow down the true identify of HCH#1, I'm sure the two know who they are. How embarrassing. Since when was it a crime to grab a kebab? I'd like to think that this article says more about the quality of TDT's journalism than anything particularly conclusive about the state of our troops.

I should say at this point that even though I failed my PFT earlier on this year, I eventually passed on my third attempt, after a couple of weeks of solid training, sound advice and remedial PT classes led by the supportive and encouraging staff at the base gym. I guess that makes me a form of evidence that even though someone in the military can lack the discipline to maintain their fitness during the entirety of the year, it doesn't take that much in effort and resources to get that fitness back. Obviously the situation is different for other people who have more work to do, whether it's due to recovering from injuries, being deployed in areas where it's difficult to maintain physical fitness routines, or because they ate more ham over Christmas than I managed to during my leave. However, I'd like to think that any member of the ADF would also believe that it's possible to achieve the basic fitness level and maintain it without too much difficulty.

The big stink about this article is that is uses BMI as a metric to classify people as 'obese'. A multitude of people (military and civilian, from the looks of it) commented to various incarnations of the online and print articles, pointing out that BMI does not take into account muscle mass or body type/structure when labelling people as obese or otherwise. BMI is useful as a guide, but when you're talking about a subsection of the population that are more likely to contain muscular types, or at least people that have greater than average inclination to do regular weight training (whether it's incidental from pack marching, carrying a weapon/webbing, compulsory PT sessions involving weights work), it becomes less useful.

It's also worth pointing out that Australians in general are becoming bigger/heavier as a population, so the alarmist comment that our troops 'are becoming super-sized, averaging 16kg heavier than their World War I counterparts' is somewhat irrelevant. Never mind the fact that no other statistics are mentioned about how the average size of Australians has changed in the past 100 years, and that the size increase of today's troops compared to WWI could also have something to do with the average age upon enlistment (or even of members in the entire ADF, for that matter).

Some online commenters brought up the point about mess food quality and choices available, and I must admit that after eating at four different military locations (RAAF, Navy as well as Army), there are not always a wide variety of healthy options. However, some choices are always better than others, and policing the food that messes provide to ADF members would be a futile solution to the 'epidemic', considering that most members have the ability to eat food from elsewhere anyway. During recruits, when I was eating three square meals a day, going crazy on weekends with whatever I wanted, and scoffing vending machine snacks and contraband whenever possible, I still managed to lose weight and get fit in a way I never have before. I didn't give much thought to what I ate at the mess, because I was far more concerned about getting as much food into my mouth as possible during the limited time we had during meals. I realise this totally goes against anything that a nutritionist, doctor, dietitian or personal trainer would recommend, but I guess we worked hard enough to work off everything that was put on our plates.

When I had my first Annual Health Assessment, I informed the Medical Officer in a general questionnaire (which I guess is used by them to determine what kind of healthy habits or bad health indications there were to praise/beat out of us with a stick) that I had gained 10kg in approximately 6 months. Yes folks, this isn't a normal or healthy occurrence, and to be honest I didn't realise how drastic the numbers seemed until I compared my weight at the time to my all-time-record from rookies. I put down a little weight gain to having come out of the recruit lifestyle, and a little more to starting cooks' course, which meant a lot more eating than I was used to. What I didn't count on was the influence of Depo injections, which I'd started once I got to Cerberus, and decided to stop after struggling to shake off the weight that I'd gained since finishing recruits.

Despite not knowing for sure whether Depo was to blame for all that weight gain, the MedicO informed me of what resources were available to me to help me lose it once more. I could make specialist appointments with a dietitian in town, to see whether it was a matter of what I was eating that was the problem, or if it could be some weird hormonal thing (Depo, anyone?) or some other kind of body malfunction. I could weigh in weekly in a sort of Weight Watchers manner, so that during my weight loss journey I could be accountable for my progress and also get regular support and advice . I could participate in Physical Conditioning Program classes at the gym (also for people that had trouble passing PFTs), and speak to Physical Training Instructors on what sort of exercise I was doing. I even read some documentation on Defence sponsored diet products and even gastric surgery, which scared me a little. But this all goes to show that ADF does actually care about managing weight/fitness, as opposed to just kicking people out once they don't meet a certain standard/number/metric.

Perhaps it's not even worth my time saying that although 14% of the ADF appears to have a BMI over 30 (myself included, and even at my fittest during rookies I wasn't ever in the healthy weight range), the real concern should either be the ADF's capability to defend the nation despite the size of our respective girths, or the percentage of Australians that have a BMI over 30. I can't help but be biased in saying that the ADF made a wise choice in changing the entry requirements so that people with a BMI over 30 could still enlist, otherwise I never would have made it in when I did, but I am a firm believer that as long as you are physically fit enough to do your job, your BMI should not matter.

friends, civilians, military men... lend me your inboxes

CIVILIAN FRIENDS - Disown you for running around their house naked in front of a bunch of people none of you have ever met before.
MILITARY FRIENDS - Take photos and then join you.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS- Think its disgusting that you got so drunk you pissed your pants and drowned the phone in your pocket - in their bed.
MILITARY FRIENDS-Upon hearing what happened say "That's fucked - that's why I don't sleep with my mobile in my pocket anymore" and help you turn their mattress over.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Get upset if you are too busy to talk to them for a week.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Are glad to see you after many years; and will happily carry on the same conversation you were having last time you met.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Never ask for food.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Are the reason you have no food.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Call your parents Mr and Mrs.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Call your parents Mum and Dad.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Bail you out of jail and then tell you what you did was wrong.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Would be sitting next to you saying, 'Mate...we fucked up ....but what a giggle?'

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Have never seen you cry.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Cry with you.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Keep your stuff so long they forget it is yours.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Know a few things about you.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Could write a book with a shed full of direct quotes from you.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Will kick the backsides of whole crowds that left you behind.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Would knock on your door.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Walk right in and say, 'I'm home, got any beer!

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Share a few experiences.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Share a lifetime of experiences no civilian could ever dream of.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you've had enough.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say,'You had better drink the rest of that, don't waste it. Then they carry you home and put you safely to bed.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will talk crap to the person who talks crap about you.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Will knock the crap out of people who use your name in vain.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Know where you buried the body.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Helped you bury the body.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will call you 'mate' as a term of endearment.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Will call you 'Wanker ' C*&T or 'Tosser' as a term of endearment.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Are for a while.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Are for life.

CIVILIAN FRIENDS: Will ignore this.
MILITARY FRIENDS: Will forward this to their military mates.

the tyranny of fitness

The first couple weeks back for a new year involves a lot of updating of compulsory annual training, such as firefighting, first aid, occupational health and safety, and for a lucky few, physical fitness tests. I wasn't due for another PFT until closer to June this year, thanks to a lucky(?) clerical error in my favour last year, which has meant I haven't actually done a PFT since passing one in week eight of rookies circa August 2007. However, I wasn't so fortunate this time around, by finding myself on the list for a PFT last Monday.

What I was worried most about, I passed with no troubles - the push-ups. I'm not a fan of push-ups at the best of times, and usually train up for a PFT by doing push-ups until fatigue point just before bed each night. I used to do the same with sit-ups back in boot camp, practicing with other girls that weren't otherwise occupied with cleaning weapons or ironing (such is life!). The alternative exercise to push-ups is the flexed arm hang, which I couldn't do at all back in the days when I was first seeing a personal trainer to get fit enough for enlistment. Weighing ten or so kilograms more than I do now also didn't help with relying on my puny arms to support my whole body weight. However, before I realised that push-ups were another metric used in the PFT, I worked on all manner of exercises to build my core, arm, and back muscles to the point where I could hang for long enough.

I was less concerned with sit-ups, considering in a circuit training session the previous week, I had been able to do the requisite amount. Whether it was because I hadn't slept or eaten enough to restore my energy reserves and rebuild the abdominals I'd worked in that session, or because I'd made the foolish choice of having my feet off the mat as opposed to on the mat (which even the PTI Sergeant admitted was a slight biophysical disadvantage I was giving myself), I don't know, but I missed the sit-ups target by two. I tried again with my feet on the mat about ten minutes later, but my feet kept coming up off the floor, my abs had nothing left to give, and I said I'd try the walk before coming back to attempt the sit-ups with feet held (which use slightly different muscles).

As for the walk, well it was definitely deceptive. I've never done the walk option before, as we didn't have a choice of it in recruits (that I knew of), because we were expected to do the run. I didn't trust my post-Christmas cardiovascular ability enough to get the right pace for the run though, so I thought choosing to walk would be easier. Boy, was I wrong. The cracking pace required to make the time target was more of a slow jog than a brisk walk, considering how short my legs are and how useless swinging arms and stepping out is for keeping the speed up. I used a guy that was pacing along listening to an iPod (another thing I didn't know we were allowed to have for PFTs!) to mark my time, but we ended up both missing out by four seconds.

Four seconds, and two sit-ups, what's the big deal, you may ask. Much like the military doesn't care if you beat the targets by seconds, minutes, fives, or tens - a pass is a pass and a fail is a fail. So I've now got 90 days to redeem myself, with the opportunity to retest any time between now and some time in April, in order to avoid further reproach (baby's first Record Of Conversation! Argh!) and regain my Individual Readiness aka deployability. I was slightly pissed off with myself for missing my targets so marginally (I probably deserved to miss them by heaps, considering how much I ate and how little I did over my summer holidays), but took it all as the kick in the butt I need to get cracking on my physical state in 2009.

I already had plans to start yoga, boxing, and Krav Maga this year. I'll tone down the running until it starts getting interesting again, but I am interested to see what these three different yet related disciplines can do for me with some serious practice. For those not in the know, Krav Maga is a military hand-to-hand combat system developed in Israel, which assumes no quarter will be given, and emphasizes threat neutralization (according to Wikipedia). I'm basically doing it for fitness and self-defence, and considering its military (and quite practical) roots, I didn't think I'd have a problem with being allowed to partake in it.

That's part of the joys of being government property, you see. Even though we ran around with webbing, rifles, and CBRND suits in 30 degree heat, threw ourselves over and under logs, ropes, chains on an obstacle course, and did numerous battle PT sessions hauling around logs, ropes, tyres, stretchers and trucks, if anyone wishes to participate in organised sport during their spare time, they need permission from the RAAF. I'm not too sure on the definition of organised sport, but considering a friend of mine struggled to be allowed to practice and teach Judo (despite being a State champion) because it wasn't recognised by the RAAF as a permissible sport, I was a little wary of admitting my potentially un-approvable extracurricular intentions.

I thought I'd do the right thing anyway (not entirely convinced by annual Fraud and Ethics training), and ask my Flight Sergeant for the 'permission to partake in outside sport' form to fill in. Just in case Krav Maga is not on the white list (even though there's another RAAFie practicing that does have permission to play!), or Iyengar yoga is seen as a national threat of some kind, or non-contact boxing is only allowed during RAAF supervised PT sessions. Part of filling in this form is seeking approval at the unit level (even though I'm sure the Commanding Officer has better things to do than sign off on everyone's voluntary sporting activities), but I thought I had a pretty good case seeing as working towards being fighting fit can only be an advantage.

Imagine my surprise when the reply from FSGT was that he could give me the form, and was happy to set the wheels in motion for me to get it signed off in the right manner, but not until I was IR current. In essence, this means I may not be medically covered if an injury occurs to me whilst I take part in 'unapproved sport', and following that sort of logic, I shouldn't be doing any extracurricular sporting activity until I am deemed 'medically fit' again. Time to play spot the Catch-22, perhaps? One would think that having failed a PFT, I should be encouraged to do anything (in my spare time or otherwise) that will increase my fitness, and therefore my prospects of passing a PFT in the near future, not discouraged.

I'm tempted to look up the relevant Defence Instructions on such rulings, to see if I have anything to wield against FSGT for doing this, but I've already been told by my immediate SGT that I should do whatever it takes to get fit again, and in the event of any injury, just say I fell down drunk or something similar. Like that's much more honourable/believable!