Is it possible to train yourself to become a Morning Person? Being an Afternoon Person is not working for me anymore. I’ve pretty much always done my exercise after work but I finish work later now, plus I’ve got lots to do in the evenings lately. Result? Bugger all exercise aside from Monday Night Kickboxing and sporadic weight training, therefore feeling like a lumpy, grumpy old SLUG.
I don’t start work until 9AM now and I’m only 15 minutes walk from work. So there’s really plenty of time for me get out of bed earlier and get the exercise done first thing – instead of waking up at 8.15AM shrieking shit shit shit shit, throwing on clothes, throwing down some Weetbix then flying oot the door.
Back in 2001 I used to get up early and go walking before work, so the streets would be quiet and no one would see me wobbling round the block. If I did it back then surely I can do it now. It just takes organisation and a bit of effort!
. . .
I really, really need those endorphins right now! I don’t want to bore you all to death with Book Stuff, but I tell you it’s quite a wild, wild ride. It’s coming out in five teeny tiny weeks and I’m swinging between delirious joy and terror.
The book arrived in the post on Thursday morning. The REAL BOOK! I can’t believe it’s real. It looked so good I wanted to lick it. Even if you scored a proof copy, you may wish to consider the Real Thing! It’s got the sexy embossed lettering on the cover, it’s 397 pages, including 8 pages of colour photographs, and the typos are fixed and the text is formatted beautifully! I feel kinda sheepish that they all went to so much effort just to sandwich together my deranged ramblings.
The cover also now contains MORE GINGER! Sooo many of you (okay, ten of you) wrote to say the cartoon Dietgirl looked more blonde than redhead that we changed it! Feel your power!
So I showed the book to Gareth then took it to work to show my new comrades. I was grinning and teary and hiccup-y as I walked up the high street. I considered stopping strangers to say, Shauna Reid my book?
At lunchtime I went to a cafe, bought myself a cuppa and started reading, as if it was a proper book. I was totally chuffed with it and thought it how pleasant that there’s a wee book talking honestly about what a dirty bitch of a task it is, trying to lose a lot of weight.
But then yesterday I read more as I was coming home from Edinburgh on the train, in a bad mood. I wanted to shout at myself in the book, WHY DON’T YOU JUST STOP EATING SO MUCH BLOODY FOOD! Just stop it, you crazy fool!
And then I thought… Oh lord, what if someone buys this? What if they read it? What if they read it and agree I’m a moron? It’s bad enough putting your life out there on the internet where a few hundred people know you’re a moron, but to put it down ON PAPER for ever and ever? What was I thinking?
Gareth picked me up at the station and we went to the supermarket and I thought I was going to throw up. I prowled the aisles as he asked what I fancied for dinner. I froze in front of a shelf full of Quorn products and thought I was going to spew and spew and spew from sheer bone-rattling panic.
So yes. It’s a wild ride, luvvies! This blog has been a safe place, much like my excess weight used to be… comforting, reassuring, protective. Even though so many of you are anonymous and faceless, it feels cosy hanging round here. It’s rather nervewracking to have the Real World get involved.
But… I am determined to make the most of this experience, darnit! Besides, have I ever done anything new or worthwhile without the eleventeen requisite Fat Girl Freak Outs? Panic is all part of the process.
In the meantime, I’m going to attempt a morning workout and shall keep up with the kickboxing. An hour of sweat and mock violence always kicks self-doubt to the doghouse. POW!