As January leaves us (good riddance) and February arrives how many of you have kept up any of those New years resolutions........lets face facts, we make them with complete conviction of keeping them, we actually believe that we can uphold them all year but in stark reality none of us really, truly, hand on heart can say that by next January we have stuck to them.
The only thing I am sticking with so far is to try and get to the gym 3 times a week, the problem in that is a purely psychological thing. In my brain I think that if I have been 3 times a week and worked very hard that it then entitles me to eat anything I want on the gym free days, thus resulting in no weight loss and very sore legs.
Take today for instance, once the kids are all packed off to school I start to pack my very large gym bag which contains a variety of sports related junk. My bag has a special section for toiletries which all looks very nice but I keep a packet of custard creams, a spare drink and some form of fruit in it (just in case my gym instructor friend looks in there).You see already I am thinking of that moment when I have finished and am in the solitary confinement of my car when I can eat all the calories I have just burnt off. Quite frankly if I didn't think it would get squashed I would keep a cream cake and a burger in there too.
Anyway bag packed. trainers on, sports bra on holding my large boobs in traction, tracksuit on and hair in a high ponytail (which in my head makes me look instantly sportier). A quick 5 minute drive and I'm there, once parked you can quite clearly see if its busy or not thanks to the huge full length glass windows. Its a bit like being at the zoo and watching the monkeys performing for the crowds, the difference being that I am about to become one of the monkeys.
Once in you then have the very latest in technology, a fingerprint scanner. I often feel like something from Mission Impossible (which to be fair is how I see my weight loss). I sometimes get the urge to scan my thumb then roll across the floor trying to avoid those laser things you see on TV.
Before I know it I'm in and doing the long walk of shame from the door to the running machines which are very annoyingly placed at the furthest end of the gym. It really is a case of head down trying not to catch sight of yourself in the full length mirrors and just get to the end.
Depending on which day you go depends on the type of gym bunny you meet. Sometimes its all skinnys with their gorgeous non wobbly bottoms placed inside their spandex, sometimes its all non skinnys who all look on gratefully when another larger lady comes into their vicinity, and sometimes its a bit of a mixture. Well that was today, a real mixture of wobbler's and non wobbler's. You tend to find the other wobbler's have an unsaid code that spells out "I hate being here but hopefully I will look like the non wobbler's soon". A subtle smile says a thousand words for us. Don't get me wrong I admire those women who obviously work extremely hard at having a lovely figure, what I don't like is being sandwiched between 2 of them on the running machines, while I do my 30 minute fast walk they are running like gazelles in the wild (thank god we are not in the Serengeti as I would be eaten on a daily basis due to the fact I cannot run very fast). I also take great offence to the ones who look and snear at you like they have just stepped in something nasty. I can guarantee they have never had weight issues or kids that stretch your once tight skin.
The thing I have noticed is a certain solidarity within many of the women there, a smile here and there and the odd funny remark about things they shouldn't have eaten but have. We all watch in awe as the POWER aerobic class sweep through the gym following their extremely fit 6ft barbie doll instructor, a hush falls over the gym as we all wish we were part of their elite group. An hour later they don't so much as sweep but crawl back through with tangled hair and massive sweat patches. It suddenly dawns on me that they are just like us really, trying to get fit and making the best of what god gave us, boobs, bums, hips and tummy's.
Back in the changing rooms we are all the same, chatting and laughing, showering and putting that all important face cream on. I wonder if I shouted "who wants a custard cream" would anyone be offended or would I have a herd of hungry women charging at me, well we shall never know as there is no way on gods earth I would ever do that, I mean..... share my custard creams...... I don't think so. They are there for my wonderful solitary moment in my car when its just me and only me.
Lots of Love