I have never done well with New
Year resolutions, particularly not if they involved food or exercise. New Year’s resolutions have always seemed to
me like a wish list that seemed a good idea at the time, after a few glasses of
champagne and some misguided optimism.
To date, I have had a 100% failure rate when it came to sticking to or even
seeing through these “resolutions”. But this year I am determined that it will be
different. You see, I firmly believe that
my body is on a 5 year cycle. I have 5
fat years and then 5 thin years and 2013 is the start of my thin cycle. I know it sounds strange but trust me it’s
true. I am fat and it is time to fight
the bulge and get back into shape.
Gaining weight is sneaky. It happens gradually and sometimes you hardly
notice it. Yes, you start to realize
something is happening when you have to hold your breath when putting on those
jeans, when your cat falls off the couch while lying next to you because it’s
running out of space and when you are growing a second chin. But denial is a very powerful weapon in my
psychological arsenal as is rationalization.
Over the last three years I have noticed that I was gaining weight but I
told myself it was healthy, that nobody likes
skinny bitches anyway and that I was only five stomach flues away from my goal weight. Sure I had to go
up a size with my shirts and pants but that’s all part of growing older and
being big boned, right? Well, no!
You see the turning point came a
few weeks ago when we had the family over for Christmas lunch. It was a beautiful day and perfect for
lounging next to the pool. Naturally
hubby was taking pictures, as he always does, but what I didn’t know was that I
was in a few of those pictures. When I
decided to look through those festive photos I got the shock of my life. I was horrified to see myself sitting on the
couch, shirtless looking like an albino whale.
I almost died. So I deleted
it. But that was not the worst of
it. A few days ago, while in the pool
hubby pointed out my belly button. I
will not nauseate you with the graphic details but suffice to say it was an eye
opener. At this point I started
resenting the pool as I was convinced that only bad things and terrible
revelations are made there.
Having had my go to option of denial
shattered into little fat pieces I did the only thing I could at the time. I sat on the shower floor and cried like a
little disturbed child who just survived Chernobyl. All those crisps, chocolates, cheeses, breads,
hotdogs and fries that I ate flashed in front of my eyes and the shower water
rained down on me like a calorie hail storm.
I had nobody to blame but myself for the extra of me there was to
love. I had to make peace with the fact
that I was fat and I had to decide what I was going to do about it. Am I going to let myself go, become morbidly
obese and possibly develop diabetes and get heart problems? Or am I going to put my big girl panties on
and do something about it. It may seem
like a clear cut decision, but I promise you it wasn’t.
The only things in life I hate
more than homophobic religious nut cases are diets and exercise. Both feel like punishment and both make me
cranky as fuck! You can’t tell me that there
are actually people out there that like being hungry and tired all the time and
that they do it to themselves on purpose.
I also don’t like to sweat and I despise rice cakes. But, hey if I want to lose the extra Backstreet
Boy that I gained over the last few years I don’t have much of a choice, now do
I? So I decided that I was not going to “let myself go” and that I would hire a
personal trainer, go see a dietician and loose the weight. But that is easier said than done.
You see I am one stubborn bitch
and if I am getting a personal trainer that person must have a strong
personality and have a high tolerance for whining, bitching, moaning and
possibly crying. I need a person who will
be able to push me, motivate me, put me in my place and be able to tell me to
suck it up and shut up. In other words I
need a bitch with compassion. I am sure
you are out there somewhere! I have
realistic expectations and I know that I won’t lose all the results of my
shameful culinary gluttony in a month or even two months, but the important
thing is that I just need to get started.
I also don’t expect to have the body of a Greek God in six months but
God knows I will try.
So let’s all agree that this is NOT a New Year’s resolution but
rather a lifestyle adjustment, an investment in my health and an attempt to
reconcile my negative perception of our pool of shame. They say nothing looks as good as skinny
feels. I haven’t been skinny in 15 years
so I kind of forgot if that is true.
Next week the hunt for a personal trainer starts and my diet
commences. If you eat anything delicious
looking near me expect a filthy stare and if you see a cranky sweaty bitch it
will probably be me.
Till next time.
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