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First Gym Class

 

Ok so it’s not my first ever, in fact a couple years ago I use to be a regular at gym classes, the instructor knew my name (to my horror) and I would manage to squeeze them in before or after work.
But now, they scare me. It’s amazing how much confidence you can loose in such a short space of time. The things that make me anxious about these new gym classes are as follows:

– Where or which room is it held, I don’t want to be walking into the wrong place to find out its high intensity power lift?
– Will I be able to keep up with the class, or end up feeling worse then when I went in before?
– Can I handle a 360 degree angle of my flubber flying?
– Will I embarrass myself?

I’m sure many can relate to this and it’s been 5 months since I’ve been joined to this gym and only yesterday did I get the courage and motivation to actually step inside one of their gym classes and this was my experience.

So first was the class description- Cardio fitness a fun high energy class. Well this sounds OK said was for all fitness levels so I made the call and booked in.
After work I changed into my figure hugging gym clothes to make sure I would actually go and not chicken out (I find it helps to already be in gym gear).
Feeling hungry after a long day at work and a salad for lunch I browsed the isle at Tesco for a healthy snack and decided on roast chicken slices. Which I then felt too embarrassed to eat in the locker room. I mean it is a bit weird and random to be chowing on slabs on meat in there.
I found studio 1 and went in. My god there was a lot of mirrors I’m pretty sure even the ceiling was mirrored. I stared at my body in the reflection until the class started, I gazed at my newly formed rounded bits, the lines where my gym leggings cut into my stomach and how my arms and legs have lost all definition. This was not a good thing to do- please don’t do this to yourself it, destroys all motivation.
The instructor was a young fit good looking guy full of “can do ” attitude. We started with a rather vigorous warm up and this was the point I knew the next 45 mins was going to be tough. I was already out of breath.

Now most cardio classes I’ve been too either are like Zumba, aerobics, kick boxing or a mix of all of these. So this is what I expected. It was not.
This was more aligned with what you do in insanity. For people who don’t know what Insanity is think; using your own body weight, bear crawls, push ups, suicide runs etc.
I was not mentally or physically prepared for this to the point of where I got really dizzy and my eye sight went all patchy. I pushed through this for a while and then (during a short water refuel) left. Yes I left. Walked out. Abandoned ship. Did I feel good about this decision, no of course not but passing out was also not high on my to do list either.
I sat down for a couple minutes and then decided this is not the end, so hoped on a bicycle and peddled it out for another 20 mins. The dizziness soon went away and I felt proud of myself that I didn’t give up, I just changed direction.

Now I think there was a bigger lesson here to learn….

No I’m kidding.

Happy New 2016 everyone!

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The turkey, the dessert, the aftermath.

Dear Fatties,

First of all Merry Christmas, hope you all put your dieting (or attempts at) behind you on this festive day, I know I sure did.

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Secondly sorry for being so but of touch this past year, I’ve been busy. Busy gaining another few kilos. its been great, I’ve dined and drunk nights away, carefree and happy… until one day… that moment you realise you fat jeans no longer fit, and your back fat has more rolls then your Christmas dinner table and cheekbones have become somewhat buried and are ready for excavation.

Over this past year I have gone into some sort of denial over my weight gain, playing the blame game…

 

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And as much as I joke I am deeply disappointed in myself about not only reaching my maximum weight but then belly flopping over it. I am at my heaviest I’ve ever been and motivation has been at an all time low. Most of this is due to finding myself in a wonderful relationship with a lovely man who loves my curves no matter where they are . But again, I can’t blame him, he isn’t the one forcing food into my mouth… well there was that one time with chocolate covered strawberries… anyway….

I need to get back into routines I had before I moved to London, going to the gym, salads, saying no to ordering pizza and being prepared!

My real push for this new found interest in losing this excess weight is that I’m going back home after 1.5 years for a two week summer holiday in 8 weeks! 8 WEEKS. I don’t want to go home a fattie! I really don’t, so I have 8 weeks to lose a 5 kilos. I would love to put it at more, but a girls gotta eat and I want this to be a long term thing. Is 5 kilos in 8 weeks to much? Or is it enough? Can I do it?? …Watch this space….

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Dear Fatties

Well it certainly has been a while… where to begin! I would love to be able to say that I successfully maintained a healthy food and exercise regime whist travelling through Europe and now that I’m living in London, eating healthy has never been easier… But the cold flabby reality is that most people I know gain weight whist travelling and I was NOT an exception.

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For a while there, in the heat of the Spainish summer I deflated a bit, but that was steadily undone by Dutch waffles and Swiss chocolate! Then again in Greece, I had high hopes for myself when I couldn’t be bothered with much else then Salads and entries and lost a couple kilos. But then there was the UK…. Cheap chocolate, crisps in more variety of flavours then I’ve ever seen before, Jaffa cakes, pies, and fried chicken joints at every turn.

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I have gained about 5-7 kilos since July, but I have also gained life changing experiences that I would never swap for a few kilos. I think one thing that I learnt about weight/myself is that when you’re simulated by other more exciting things, you don’t really give a shit about your waist line (with the exception of Spain- wtf do these girls even eat??). I also discovered that by writing this blog it made me obsess and think about weight even more, which was an interesting side effect to something I thought would help me around this issue.

So here I am, in big ole London town, I wasn’t quite aware of how much weight I’d put on until I realised that blaming the UK for having “weird sizing” aka I have to now go up a size in most stores was just me being blissfully ignorant to the fact I’m not quite the svelte creature I was a few months ago. Don’t get me wrong, I still have some of that post holiday “don’t give a shit” liberation over my body image, however as the days roll on and I’m exposed to more magazine covers and my ass won’t fit into a normal size range, one cannot help but think its time to reel it in a little… or a lot.

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Moving countries is hard work, my “go-to” frozen vegetables are no longer available, work routines changed, fitness classes different and not as available. It’s all an adjustment and sometimes the most comforting thing can be found at the bottom of a packet of chocolate biscuits. BUT! I’ve joined a local gym, starting making salads for lunch and cutting down the junk. Slow and steady wins the race in this case I think.

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Screw it I’m cheating

With the stress of moving countries I would love to say that the weight has just been dropping off me… But that would be a big fat lie… My “fun little beach shorts” are now far too tight to be a comfortable option on the beach (unless the muffin top really tickles your fancy).

I could try and stop eating for two weeks … OR … I could stretch my jeans using a system of towels…. Winning.

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Back to basics

Moving overseas also means quitting the gym and getting rid of my exercise equipment…. which of course I used all the time…

 

But it also forcing me to come up with new and inventive ways to stay fit…. but hey here’s a novel idea…

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Guna party like its my birthday…

Tomorrow its my birthday, I will be turning 28, which I have mixed feelings about but on the whole don’t care to much. It being Monday tomorrow and starting the week on fresh new healthy high is now impossible due to going out for breakfast lunch and dinner… and of course THE CAKE. 

But after tomorrow I want to turn over a new leaf and start my 28th year, healthy, in control and really give this last 4 weeks before I go travelling a real push!

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No more loafing around….

It is now under 5 weeks until I hit the coast of Spain so the inevitable has to happen… I have to give up bread. 

Bread with all its toasty sandwichy goodness is a comfort food of mine and also a snack that often pushes up my daily calorie limit. I’ve given it up before and I can do it again!

I have accepted that I will not be a beach goddess, but to be just a little flatter, a little lighter and a little less bloated looking will have to do. 

Now please enjoy my memorial to the wonderful thing that is bread. 

 

 

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These are my confessions…

 

On Thursday night I ate a whole packet of biscuits, not just 3 or 4 or even 6 but the entire packet. I didn’t even share it with someone. What’s worse is I didn’t even feel that sick afterwards. These were the kind with crunchy biscuits covered in chocolate with a crème centre that really goes down well with a cup of tea.

 

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Rehab – how did I get here?

No more running he said, no more squatting he said, no more lunges he said. Ok so….I’m trying to get bikini ready, hows this going to work?!

So I’ve had issues with my knees for the past couple years now, they basically grind, crunch and crackle like a corn-flake commercial when I walk up stairs or do squats and lunges. I have had them x-rayed, been to the doctor and asked my local physio. They all shrugged it off, told me to go easy on the squats and said crunchy knees where normal. At this point, the ripe age of 27, I was feeling kind of like this: 

I continued doing squats and also become a fan of running, which I know is high impact on your knees… but hey my knees where fine right, they were “just normal”?? 

So today I went and saw another physio and stressed to him that it was NOT OK, turns out I have Chondromalacia patella, which in English means my knees are tracking over on the wrong angle. I developed this over a series of actions/habits where I didn’t have good form.

People. Good form is SO important. Its a waste of time going hard at the gym not to get the full benefit or injure yourself! I think my injury happened from taking shortcuts and going with what felt easier. Now I have to take 12 weeks off all my go-to exercises not to mention the cost of physio!

Ok so…hmmm now what do I do. 

 

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