I guess I've put myself on the backburner for a while, and as a result, I've added a few extra kilos to my frame. Which explains why I've thrown myself like a crazy lady into walking. Why I've been trying to glamify my salad days to myself. And why I've got an acute case of the Flat Stanleys.
Tiny doesn't help when she comes up and squeezes my stomach and says: "Ohhhhh squishy, squishy," then grappling for any - and all - other squishy parts of my body. She does however redeem this act by telling me repeatedly, emphatically that she really loves my squishies.
It is endearing.
But my squishies are not so endearing.
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When I was about 22 I joined a group with a personal trainer. Not for weight loss, but to get a toned, strong body. We met three mornings a week, and ran through the Botanical Gardens (my favourite), ran up and down the steps of the Opera House, it was a wonderful - if exhausting and exhilirating - start to my day. At the end of the program I had the strongest, healthiest body I had ever had. I felt amazing. Because my body was strong.
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I weighed myself today and for the rest of the day felt this immense disgust with myself. Inside I thought "I used to be lighter!" - and losing weight felt out of reach.
If you don't know me, I am tall-ish, and you may not notice my weight gain. Or if you do - you're too polite, too well-mannered to say anything. But I feel it. I see it in the mirror. Too many Haigh's chocolate frogs for me.
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So what I'm going to do: I'm going to make myself a priority again. I'm going to get that lean and strong body back. It might take me a while, I'm going to find some exercise that I dig on - there must be something - I want to feel like that strong, all-powerful woman again.
image of Kate Moss by Mario Testino - amazeballs
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