So I haven’t written since last week’s weigh day, I offer no excuse except for me being a lazy, frazzled bastard with a very lengthy list of things to do with an apparent inability to finish bloody any of them.
Anyway, here goes.
last update: 26 January 2005
height: 173cm (5’8")
original start weight: 159.2 kg (351lb) on 17 Jan 2001
original start bmi: 53.4
fresh start weight: 95.9 kg (211.4 lb) on 12 Jan 2005
fresh start bmi: 32.2
current weight: 92.4 kg (203.3lb)
current bmi: 31
result this week: -0.7 kg (1.5lb)
loss in 2005: -3.5 kg (7.7lb)
total loss since 2001: -66.8 kg (147lb)
initial goal weight: 75 kg (165lb)
distance to goal: 17.4 kg (38.3lb)
I’m quite happy with that result, I knew that last week’s big loss was what I call Honeymoon Kilos. It’s quite easy to drop a couple in a week when you ate and drank like a porker for the weeks before that. Now the hard work has begun!
This week’s aim was to get back exercising.
I’m going through this phase lately where I am reading Diet Books. None of the sensational ones like The Glass of Air Diet or Fart Yourself Thin, just sensible tomes like Outwit Your Weight and Dr Phil’s Ultimate Weight Solution. I don’t know what the freaking hell I expected to find from these books, but lately I’ve had this crisis of confidence where I think I don’t know what’s best for me, that I don’t have the smarts to shift the rest of my lard. I poured over these books expecting some great enlightenment. I took all the stupid quizzes and noted what they wanted me to eat, and it hit me – I already know all this crap. There was nothing they were telling me, no diet tip or exercise or food combination or mind trick that I hadn’t already figured out for myself over the past four years.
What I’m trying to say is, I’m past the stage where I needed my hand held. I now know what to do, I have the tools. I know what exercise gets my metabolism ticking and what foods make me feel good. I just have to trust my own judgement again and take responsibility.
Most of all I have to retrain my thinking and realise I’m longer a beginner. I need to look in the mirror and see Almost There instead of Obese Beyond Belief. After all this time, I still think I go to the gym and see myself as The Really Fat Chick just puffing along in the classes with the beautiful people, and for me just to be there is some sort of miracle. Doing two or three classes and a bit of walking may have been an incredible odyssey when I was 120 kilos but now it is just not enough.
I’d booked in for Body Combat this afternoon, I only did it a few times last year because I became addicted to dancing my arse off at Body Jam. But I remembered how good BC is for cardio, so I decided to take it up again. But when I got off the bus I walked straight past the gym, went home and flopped on the bed. Why? Because the class was taken by Scary Richard who is like a drill sargeant. Because all the blonde whisps go to that class. Because I did Body Jam last night. Because I have wedding stuff to plan, boxes to pack. Because I am a lazy butt.
Twenty minutes before the class was due to start, I decided to put my gym clothes on and see if that would change my mind. Soon I remembered how much I used to love Combat, all that kicking and punching. And even though you’re only fighting air, it would have to help get my shoulders all mobile again ready for SC’s kickboxing class later this year. Plus last night’s Jam class was so focused on learning new steps I didn’t really get too sweaty.
So I ended up going and freaking loved it. Why do I always quit Combat? It hammers me like no other class and it’s so much fun. My shoulders are still singing and my legs are too.
It’s so humbling and bloody annoying to realise that I am not going to find some miracle inspiration in a book, some diet secret on the back of a cornflakes box. I just have to swallow what I knew all along, that I’m the only one who can do this and I’m going to have to get off my arse and move it.