Tim Tam evenings [Tales from Never Never Land]

First post in my new series: Tales from Never Never Land. XO.

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Tim tim tim tim, tammy tam tam tam, timmy tim tim tim, tammy tam tam tam….

That’s a song I made up recently – a song I sing every evening around 9 pm since we’ve moved to New Zealand. The premise of the song is a cookie and the purpose of why I sing it is to drop a fatty hint to the hus that it’s Tim Tam slam time.

Tim Tam evenings | Lindsey Talerico-Hedren

Heaven.

Now a Tim Tam slam (it’s really a shame if you’ve never heard of this incredibly satisfying experience until now) is basically the down under way of being inducted on the path to obesity. It’s really quite fabulous, and although I know I will pay one day soon for this with one too many extra kg’s on the scale (which I won’t understand even several months from now… Can’t we just all be on one measurement system?! It’s crazy enough we drive on different sides of the road!), it is mentally helping me to cope with home away from home.

In fact, I now show up to work everyday in a baggy, saggy orange t-shirt to 1) blend in, 2) really “wear” the cause, 3) hide my tummy rolls acquired from eating too many cookies at night, and 4) save money by not spending it on a new New Zealand-style wardrobe.

Lindsey Talerico-Hedren on Instagram

Prep before my day out with the face-to-face team. Quirky bunch.

I’m only teasing. The material girl in me is not quite so level headed about such things. (I like to think I’m playing my part in the consumer food chain very well.)

1) The truth is, we don’t blend in at all. We stick out like a sore thumb in the city. When we’re walking around, I actually feel like people can tell we are Americans by the way they look at us — like the face of a rather pensive person who is giving extra thought about which flavor of ice cream to get in their cone. It’s neither welcoming or demeaning. Can never tell with the kiwis what they are thinking. That’s probably my biggest bother right now is my American scent won’t let me catch onto the kiwi communication odors.

2) And while I enjoy wearing things on my sleeve (chief among them, thanks to my American upbringing, all emotion and inner thought), sporting the cause has never been something I’ve been particularly good at. Yeah, school spirit even in the high school days lacked big time.

3) The extra tummy rolls…I’m thinking I have about 3 more weeks before that catches up to me. Please, God, let it be at least 3 weeks.

4) Our average grocery bill is totaling around $200 right now.

But I confess we do eat cookies every night, a sort of Tim Tam slam ritual I’ve adopted. We miss home.

So to deal with the intense stress of… ummm…being here, Colin and I have been doing little things to treat ourselves. Not sure why we think we are deserving of such treats — I think we’re telling ourselves we’ve been working hard? — but we make sure each evening includes at least two. Tonight it was Diet Coke and potato wedges with dinner. The Tim Tam slam dessert is in it’s own category.

But tomorrow night we are doing a good thing. We are joining a gym. But not just any gym – the nicest, most trendy gym I’ve ever seen. Kiwis interest me immensely with the things they put extra effort or emphasis in… gyms, bathrooms… (Saving this topic for another post). When we first started scouting gyms, this was the first one we went into. But a parking ticket and the shadow of a depressed evening drove us back home believing we were too middle class for such a gym. (Actually, it was that we are indeed too middle class for this gym. $34 per week per person for a 12 month contract + $99 joining fee each. That makes for a monthly gym fee of approximately $303. We value working out, but not that much.)

So our google.co.nz hunt continued on. We discovered four or so other gyms in the area — all within walking distance of our new apartment downtown. We visited two last evening. Both were expensive and yet the extreme opposite of the nice gym. These gyms were straight from the ’80s — turquoise foam seats, rusty barbells, a Zumba class that looked like it probably doubled in the day time as a kindercare for children under age 5, no TV screens anywhere in sight.

This is when Colin and I realised that we are total gym snobs. We are gym snobs. And we are chapstick snobs. We like Burt’s Bees and think Blistix is so 2005.

We came home after last night’s gym tragedy even more depressed than the first time. I spent the rest of the evening screening Youtube workout videos to find a fit for us.

But tonight, my lovely sales-ee husband called up the nice lady from the VIP gym and lured her with his enticing American accent into giving us a membership for $23 per week and no joining fee. So tomorrow, I plan to be doing Zumba in my Target tank top next to some Lululemon skinny minies from the city. I’ll let you know how that goes.

More Tales from Never Never Land coming soon…

Get an idea of Never Never Land with some homemade Instagram jam.

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