This time two weeks ago, I was two kilos heavier than I am now. That’s about five pounds, I think.
Pretty cool huh?
Recently, I was on a shopping expedition with my mother. If you get my mother at the right time, and talk softly toher without waking her up from her trance, sometimes she will pull her Visa card out and melt it with large transactions. On this expedition we tried on lots of clothes. My mother is a size 8. I thought I was a 12. Turns out I’m a 14. Trousers were not comfortable at all. I was losing my jawline. The assistant kept mentioning control undies.
Seeing Summer looming in the distance and the party season nearly upon me, I had a think. Normally after a shock like this I’d be all “I’m never eating again!! Or if I do, only cabbage soup with low-fat water!”
This time though, I’ve been logical and thorough.
The aim is, people, to get to my goal weight in 6 months. I’m going to do this, not only by eating well, but by exercising and getting active.
I have never been an active person and say things like, oh I change my sheets this morning and got all puffed after wrestling with the duvet….that’ll do me for today.
Now I’m off to the gym every lunchtime, and in the weekend I’m making a point of busting a gut for 30mins. Last week we walked up the Mount. It was hard. I’m loving going to the gym, now that it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s fun to see what I can make my body do. Put it this way, 3 weeks ago, I couldn’t kneel onto a Swiss Ball and keep my balance. Now I’m kneeling and doing bicep curls at the same time. Also drinking two litres of water a day (I go to the loo more than Kate Moss out clubbing).
Food is an interesting one. I’ve never really eaten unhealthily, but I eat a lot. Rich eats even more. So we’re dialling down the portions and filling half the plate with veg and salad. We’re drinking only on Friday and Saturday nights. Rich has started dropping weight faster than a supermodel after giving birth. So unfair.
The difference of all of this is if I have a handful of chips at my nephew’s birthday, or a wine with dinner on Fathers Day, I don’t beat myself up. 6 months is a good amount of time, and so long as I stick at my rules 95% of the time, I should be okay. The only downside of this is, all the trousers that Mum bought me on our shopping trip? Can pull them down without undoing the zip. I don’t really feel bad about this.
Showing posts with label Make-over. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Make-over. Show all posts
Monday, 15 September 2008
Wednesday, 9 January 2008
Serious cliche
I just joined the Gym.
Hopefully I won't become another one of those, joined-the-gym-in-January, gave-up-the-next-day statistics.
I just had my first interview with spunkrat Craig, at a nice big gym just 2 blocks from work. 2 blocks? Why didn't you join earlier? I hear you say. The answer, mes amies, is because anything that makes me red, sweaty, and my boobs wobble that doesn't involve me and another naked person is on my verboten list. I just hate exercise. Always have, always will. It is simply not in my nature to get up and go somewhere just to crack a bead, as my brother in law would say.
A workmate and I both look at each other all, you're weird, when she says Oh I go for an hour's run to chill out, and I'm all, oh really? I like to support the country's wine industry and drink a bottle or two.
BUT the time has come, the walrus said, to use it or lose it, and my goal is to hit 30 in December and be able to touch my toes for the first time since I was 8. (Hey, I have freakishly short arms - like Matthew McConaughy. Seriously. Have a look next time). I also hope to get rid of some of my bingo wings, but because I am naturally an endomorph (curses!) this will be difficult. Madonna I certainly never will be.
So it's off to the gym 4 times a week, and gorgeous Craig recommends Spin and Circuit classes. I immediately started panicking at the thought of being the one falling off in a heap, bright red and panting like a emphysemic bull on heat, while everyone else is madly pedalling away, all secretly laughing at the rhino in the corner.
Paranoid? You know it. But I have to stop caring what everyone else thinks and just get on with it...in 3 months it'll be me smirking away.
Oh yeah and I bought a new car today. Pics coming soon! In the meantime, here is a scarily close up shot of my feet, encased in my new sandals. I like to call them Boudicea. Don't laugh at my yam toes. They're covered in OPI Candy Apple Red if you're wondering.
Hopefully I won't become another one of those, joined-the-gym-in-January, gave-up-the-next-day statistics.
I just had my first interview with spunkrat Craig, at a nice big gym just 2 blocks from work. 2 blocks? Why didn't you join earlier? I hear you say. The answer, mes amies, is because anything that makes me red, sweaty, and my boobs wobble that doesn't involve me and another naked person is on my verboten list. I just hate exercise. Always have, always will. It is simply not in my nature to get up and go somewhere just to crack a bead, as my brother in law would say.
A workmate and I both look at each other all, you're weird, when she says Oh I go for an hour's run to chill out, and I'm all, oh really? I like to support the country's wine industry and drink a bottle or two.
BUT the time has come, the walrus said, to use it or lose it, and my goal is to hit 30 in December and be able to touch my toes for the first time since I was 8. (Hey, I have freakishly short arms - like Matthew McConaughy. Seriously. Have a look next time). I also hope to get rid of some of my bingo wings, but because I am naturally an endomorph (curses!) this will be difficult. Madonna I certainly never will be.
So it's off to the gym 4 times a week, and gorgeous Craig recommends Spin and Circuit classes. I immediately started panicking at the thought of being the one falling off in a heap, bright red and panting like a emphysemic bull on heat, while everyone else is madly pedalling away, all secretly laughing at the rhino in the corner.
Paranoid? You know it. But I have to stop caring what everyone else thinks and just get on with it...in 3 months it'll be me smirking away.
Oh yeah and I bought a new car today. Pics coming soon! In the meantime, here is a scarily close up shot of my feet, encased in my new sandals. I like to call them Boudicea. Don't laugh at my yam toes. They're covered in OPI Candy Apple Red if you're wondering.
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