Sheeeeit. Cain’t git in mah pants no more.

I was doing SO well.

That’s what happens when your long holiday lazy summer turns into permanent lay-a-bed-loucher-lady year.

Truth: haven’t been to the gym since September. Another truth: I’ve been laying about, watching A LOT of Netflix/ Stan. I’ve become very sedentary. More truth: I’ve been enjoying a few too many sticky buns, carbohydrates, sweet things and alcomohol. Still more truth: I actually don’t mind the way I feel physically – I’m not too tired, I’ve got enough energy (I think), and I can still walk the dog. I’m healthy. But dang it. My pants don’t fit anymore. And I’m NOT BUYING ANY MORE CLOTHES.

This is why I must get me back to the gym. Because it’s too expensive if I don’t go. Also, I discovered a double chin and my bras are getting tight. My boobs are my bellwether because they are the first thing to go when I lose weight and the very last thing to grow back when I’ve put weight on everywhere else. They are telling me it’s time. This is me below:


Beached on the side of a mountain. Bellwether Boobs. That’s me.

I just want the weather to cool down: it’s so STEAMY here right now. I’m so sick of sweating even when I’m not moving. Truth be told I hate sweating even when I AM moving. Ugh.

I’m doing it. Come Saturday morning, I’m off to the gym. Just watch me. I can do this. (might need iron supplements and magnesium…and a big kick up the whatoosie.)

*Saturday edit: I never made it to the gym. Sad face.




Breathe…just breathe.

So here I was feeling proud of myself for maintaining a strict exercise and diet regime, and all I wanted to do this week was lose 500 grams. 500 measly little peanuts. But last night as I made my dinner, eating only 100 grams of my 200 gram steak and staying well below my calorie count, I had a not very fun thought. What if I don’t make the 68kgs club? I had a sneaking suspicion it was not going to happen.

And today, after boxing, and before my PT session with Bailey-the-trainer, I hadn’t. I had lost 100 measly little grams. I sat firmly on 69kgs, no budging from that. I’m annoyed and disappointed. I AM told that weight loss will plateau after a few weeks, but I SO wanted to get that extra 1/2 kg off me! I have drunk no champagne for weeks! I’ve forgotten what potato gnocchi and pasta tastes like. I just want a glass of red and a chocolate pie, goddammit!

I’m hoping desperately that my weight is due to some hormonal fluctuation, such as water retention. Because I want to be smaller than this, and I feel that my body is becoming ready to be smaller. The weight I can feel still clinging to me seems to be sloppier and smaller than a few weeks ago, but I want it gone NOW!

(Insert cute motivational picture HERE)

Like my motivational picture? Courtesy of . I have to remind myself that I’m doing this for long-term health and fitness, not just weight loss….

My body is loving the new, health conscious me, by the way. But it’s also loving the fat that is parking itself on my belly. Which I’m not. Argh.

Breath. Just breathe.

So, thinking of solutions to this immediate dilemma, I’ve decided to go swimming more often. Starting tomorrow. Because I’ve been teaching all day today and I did a boxing class AND PT class this morning at 6.00am.

The trick to exercise, I’ve decided, is to do it as early as possible so you don’t get lazy and not put it off. Bailey-the-trainer wants to add a circuit class at 6.30am on Thursdays which will be great for me as I wake up at about 6.00am these days – urgh. Still, in hot and steamy QLD an early start is better as later in the day the heat can be feral. And I with it.

So, while I gnash my teeth and curse my fickle body, I will continue to breathe, just breathe. It’s not the end of my first-world. It’s just a few kilos.