I'm determined to be in better shape by Christmas and in fantastic shape by the summer. The last year has given me the perfect excuse not to exercise (other than doing 5 miles a day with the dog) and the perfect excuse to indulge in food. And I'm heading in the direction of the gym bunny pictured.
Of course I'm disguising my body vanity as a quest for better health. As all body dismorphioc people do. As you know I'm working with nutritionists at the moment and each seem to find the name and the naming of this blog worrysome.
The name you see came as an immediate reaction to being told that I was going to need chemo. Far from devastation or a need for a moment to process the information I immediately pictured myself as Ivan Lendl, hollow cheeked, gaunt and pale and thought 'Wow, I'm going to be fabulously thin.' This - by expert accounts - is not a normal reaction.
Nor was it an accurate picture. The steroid, the bloating, the food cravings and the post cancer feeling of immunity from death all led to the pounds piling on and the muscle falling off.
Leaving Sydney I weighed 155lbs and had 10% body fat. During chemo that was 157lbs and 11.5%. Now I'm 165lbs and larding it around like Bella Emberg after a vacation at a Donut factory.
So it's time to say no to alcohol, no to snacks, no to the sofa and hello gym, hello pilates, hello carrots, hello 7 mile walks with the dog.
I want trousers that don't brand me when I lean over. I want not to be able to pinch more than an inch. I want to escape the invisibility of middle age and be noticed on the streets, checked out in Chelsea and comfortable on a T-shirt. I want to say goodbye to man boobs and the Florida or Texas waistline decision.
So it's back to the grindstone - I have a second gym session in 30 mins and a 2 hr dog walk planned thereafter. I also have 'before' photos to take. This, I think, is gonna be a bumpy ride
No comments:
Post a Comment