So I haven't weighed myself in about a year, and it seems I may have put on a little weight. How much weight...? Just over a stone! But how? And how did I not notice??
Ok, so maybe I have been in denial. I should have realised I was getting a bit heftier after last week when I saw my best friend for the first time in four months, who immediately pointed out my new love-handles (which were squeezing over the top of a pair of leggings that admittedly, I had to force over my thighs). And that day at work when one of my collegues commented on my 'second chin'. And I suppose I had dismissed the fact that my boyfriend had started calling me 'our big lass'. Bloody hell, what has happened!
As for food. Well, I like food. All food. Any food. Over the last 6 months I guess bi-weekly take-aways and Full English Brekfasts every Sunday have been a big part of my life. As have the numerous Terry's Chocolate Oranges with Popping Candy, cookies, sausage casseroles, huge portions of butter, and family sized bags of crisps. And I also suppose that three years of university-related binge drinking may have taken their toll. So what is to be done?
Well on Sunday I had the bright idea that this running thing may work, despite numerous failed attempts. So after a few pints of cider and black at the pub, my boyfriend and I made our way home for dinner. Just as he started getting the chicken out of the fridge, I let him in on my plan. "You do that, I'm off running." The look of utmost amusement and disbelief on his face said it all. I think the fact that I was pretty tipsy and a bit slurred overlooked both of us. His respose: "This I've gotta see." Great so now I had an audience. After twenty three minutes of looking for my trainers (which were buried deep under my bed after years of neglect), and several outfits changes (it turns out jeans and a 'nice top' are unnacceptable running attire) I was ready. Oh, but what about stretching? I'd seen people do it on TV, it looked simple enough. And I thought I had the right idea until Josh turned around and asked me if I was 'squatting for a poo' in the middle of the bedroom. So that was a fail then.
Finally, we made it out the door. Naturally, Josh was coming to observe this rare event, and probably re-tell the story to everyone later, when I was in hospital with a collapsed lung or something. And off we went. Fifteen minutes later we were home, after running round the block once, with three v-e-r-y long stops. I was bright red in the face, sweating profusely, and unable to speak. Horrific. Totally unpleasant and unnecessary. Never again. However, delighted that I had managed to do some exericse, I trotted up to the bathroom to see how much weight I'd lost. Mortifying result. It seemed I had put two pounds on after running! I decided it was surely because I was wearing heavy clothes, and sweat was weighing me down, and my lungs were filled with oxgen. So I propmtly stripped off every item of clothing on my body, wiped the sweat off using several towels, and took a large breath out. No change. The horror of it all of course drew me to the consumption of 'a few' Cadbury's Creme Eggs. Damnit all.
After all this distress, my boyfriend is still refering to me as Miss McJowls, and I can't fit into my favourite dress! So the result it that one must attempt this exercise thing some more, cut out the junk food (working in an Italian restaurant where I get free pizzas may not help), and GET FIT! Or at least swap my duck in plum sauce with egg fried rice for the lighter chicken in lemon with boiled rice. Eurghhh. Watch this space...
