Call it an epiphany, call it a lightbulb moment, call it a wake up call, call it what you want. I sit here writing this in total despair. I knew I was fat, but actually didn’t realise quite how badly I had let it get to this. I have been feeling very lethargic of late, very out of shape in general. The aches and pains had increased, exercise seemed to give me such breathlessness, generally I felt crap.
The problem is, the results from the scales don’t look too bad at all and I think that is the big problem for me, after all they say 54 kg. But today I discovered that I am in fact 37% body fat – basically skinny fat (OK less of the skinny really these days but you get my point). I wear a size 8 usually, how I don’t know, because I am clearly not an 8. Well actually I do know and my next post on this subject will illustrate how this miracle has happened. But, I digress, the truth came, it hurt and kicked me up my fat arse when I decided to get out the camera. Self timer on, I took 3 shots front, rear and side, in my underwear. Was I insane? clearly yes. I could have cried, in fact I did. I suddenly realised why I am single, (that being just one of the many reasons beyond me just being too bloody annoying that anyone could actually handle having me as their girlfriend or partner in life). So I decided today was the last visit to the golden arches for some time, limit the things I really like, if not eradicate them. I need to start burning vast amounts of fat, start working out and finding some muscle under all this fat that seems to have deposited in the years I have not been looking. Further calculations showed I have become an apple shape since having my daughter, not so lovely and cute as it sounds, making me a likely high risk candidate to die of a heart attack or a stroke if I don’t deal with this any time soon. My goal is simple. Shed some weight but not much – I would like to be a proper lean size 8 on my 5′ 1″ frame, get my weight down to say 50kg but have a body fat percentage closer to 20 which is the big goal for me. There must be muscle under there some where after all. In my dreams I am lean. An interesting dream considering I never have been and am kind of curious as to how that would actually look.
As I am approaching my 40 something birthday in a few days I knew it was time to do something. I have a small person who relies on me solely. I would like to be fit enough to be able to do things with her without feeling tired all the time. Fatness creeps up on you, especially when you live in an area that has a morbid obesity problem. Your norm doesn’t feel quite so bad in comparison. But today things must change. I can’t do it in half measures, as that kind of sensible behaviour just isn’t me. I have to give up a lot of things that I love. Cheese, less dairy in general, no white bread and in fact I would like to ditch the bread all together if I can. Up the vegetable intake and remove chocolate, biscuits and cake from my temptation – not forgetting crisps my secret kitchen stalking vice!
I know I am going to hate it with a passion and be incredibly miserable to begin with but I hope when I start seeing results I will start to be more motivated. I have decided to give myself a realistic goal of being where I really want to be by this time in 2015. But hope to be a lot closer by Spring 2014 with just some refining to do. After all I didn’t get like this over night, so it figures I am not going to be able to dump it overnight either, even if I wish that I could. My willpower is awful, which is why I am putting this on my blog so everyone can see and nag me if I am not getting to my goals. Fear of humiliation is clearly going to be the only thing that works for me on this. I have been thin and healthy, maybe once, so I guess I can be thin and healthy again, but as I said, lean, well that is new territory for me. I just have to keep focussed, repeatedly eat well and try to do exercise at least 4 days a week. Currently its zero days a week, so anything is better than that.
I do this not just for me, but for my daughter and actually for other people who probably don’t deserve me doing it for them, but hey, its my mind and my body and if that tactic works for me then that has to be my motivation. I want someone to look at me and say wow not urgh for once. Life moves on, we lose things, we gain other things and in my case I gained a bucket load and maybe a barrel of fat and lost my self-esteem.
Each month on the 22nd I will weigh myself and calculate my progress and the calipers are on the way. Good ole ebay. Today I start with 54kg, 37% body fat, a waist that is 33 inches. A number that made me nearly die on reading the tape measure, seeing as it is six inches greater than it was in 2007 pre birth of my daughter and appears to have grown by 3.5 inches this year alone.
I would love to be in a position for the first time in my life to be able to look in the mirror and like what I see. Unfortunately I am a perfectionist and a procrastinator of great magnitude, not a great combination.
But I have goals none the less. I want to be lean, fit, be able to cycle 20 miles with ease and be able to run a marathon by the time I reach my 50th birthday (should I wish, no big plans there as the knees have other ideas). It hit home when I suddenly realised I am now over half way through my life, and, life is for the living, not for the standing still. If I can do this, then I know anyone actually could as I have to be one of the most physically lazy people on the planet when it comes to exercise and fitness and lacking real motivation. I am the woman who would pay good money for the magic pill and wake up lean. Of course that doesn’t really happen. And short of me stomping around on roids, losing my periods and upping my testosterone levels that ain’t going to happen. Trust me, a peri-menopausal woman needs no more hormone messing than her body naturally seems to be dish out. And anyway I don’t have any ambitions to get the gravy browning out and oil myself up. Well not in public anyway.
So it really is Day 1 – I am starving before bed – not a good start. My cup of tea tastes awful without sugar. So awful in fact I think I may just start drinking water. All I want after a bowl of oatmeal is a hunk of cheese – a routine I have religiously undertaken since being a small child, having been given cheese after sweet things. Always good to blame your parents and take no personal responsibility for your actions as a woman on the edge after 10 hours on the new plan!
Don’t worry this hasn’t turned into some evangelical, found the light, health blog and I will suddenly start telling you to eat all paleo (which actually looks like it has legs for me as an eating plan incidentally) or eat six million bananas washed down with some soya milk tainted with fig juice. Its more likely to be a tale of disaster, woe, some funny moments interspersed with the reality I will fall flat on my fat arse with this plan. Always the optimist …
I don’t suppose it will bag me the man of my dreams, earn me riches beyond my wildest dreams, but if I put on a bikini and not burst into tears that will be a result.