Sunday, 16 November 2008

The Beginning

This blog is about losing weight. Which I need to do. I weigh 100 (!) kg - argh, not sure I should publish that! In certain outfits and at certain angles I look pregnant. I take up more than my allotted seat on the bus/ tube. I have high blood pressure. High pulse rate. Ridiculous body fat percentage (surely that goes without saying?). I am only happy wearing about 5 outfits because all the others make me look fat. Which I blatantly am.

What's strange about this state of affairs is that less than 10 years ago, I used to run 5 miles and swim for 2 hours - every single day (more or less - I wasn't annoying; I did have my lazy days). I was never skinny but I had the highest lung capacity in my class, blood pressure that was so low it wasn't within the normal range and ditto for my pulse rate. I was a UK size 14. Of course, at the time, I felt fat (probably because my school was peopled with slinky girls who were all size 8 - and were considered fat if they were size 10). In fact, I was within striking distance of the normal BMI - and remember that all that running and swimming plus the weights had left me with fabulous muscles, which, as we all know, weigh more than fat. So, 10 years ago, I was wondrously healthy.

So, I sit here wondering where it all went wrong. How 10s of kilograms and 3? 4? stone have crept up on me during the years - and I didn't pay it any attention. How ridiculously, pathetically stupid am I?

This really really has to change. I'm 25 for heaven's sake. This should be when I swan around with divinely gorgeous men [a rugby playing PhD researcher would do just fine, ta muchly], have a wonderful wardrobe with unique dresses/ skirts/ tops/ coats/ trousers that I pick up for 50p at the local charity shop, run marathons (ha, not bloody likely), lie on the beach in tiny swimming cossies and be generally all round fabulous.

Man, don't I seem superficial? I'm really not. I only care a little about gorgeous clothes and the gorgeous men (although, if they're giving out the body of Strictly's Ola Jordan or gorgeous Mr. Jackman/ Clooney, I'm first in the queue). But I do care about the fact that I feel like I'm due a heart attack in about 5 years, that I'm likely to be diagnosed diabetic if I'm not careful (runs in the family) and that I will kill myself because I can't be bothered to go to the gym and yes, I will hoover up that 8 pack of mini chocolate cakes (but it was bought on sale!).

So, with that in mind, I spent tonight writing down what I plan to eat this coming week and making a shopping list of food to buy tomorrow night. Plus, first thing tomorrow before work, I shall be hitting that gym which I've frequented once since I joined 3 weeks ago.

Food and exercise, that's all it takes right? ;)

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