I hope you won’t be disappointed in me, but I have to break the news to you that I haven’t got a six-pack yet. I mean seriously, I drink wine and eat Green and Black’s, I just don’t understand.
I have, however, been sticking to my exercise programme – I promise! My goal is four circuit training style sessions a week (with the scary Jillian Michaels on DVD – they are 30-45 minutes long), and one yoga class. I have generally hit my target every week since I started this new regime in April. This is an achievement for my health and not my motivation – my motivation has been with me every step of the way in the last seven years, but as we all know my health hasn’t always been so reliable.
It’s amazing exercising consistently; I never gave up exercising – even at my worst I would sneak in what I could manage, but it was intercepted with huge periods of inactivity. My body feels strong again and that is such a huge part of feeling well. And when I put my trainers on I feel alive: I love the sheer action of having enough energy to do star jumps, or burpees, or whatever other ridiculous energetic move Jillian has me doing. (And this is how hard I have worked people: I’ve got a sporting injury. Ha ha. Don’t get those lying around.)
And I HAVE toned up, maybe not as much as I would like but hey. My arms are less baggy – not as toned as Jennifer Anniston’s – but good enough to carry off a vest top; my legs are stronger and less wobbly – my chubby knees haven’t miraculously disappeared, but that would require some type of fat sucking operation. No thank you. I accept my chubby knees as being part of how God made me (and know that I am in good company – even Kylie has chubby knees. Trust me, she does); my butt is slightly higher – I think; my tummy is less flabby – and for all I know there is a six-pack in there somewhere but it is still hidden by a muffin-top, but it is definitely a smaller muffin.
So here it is, I have to face up to the fact, if I want so shift any more wobbly bits, I am going to have to review my diet. I am wary of doing this, as in my experience as soon as I try to eat less I end up eating more and spend my days dreaming about food.
And my current diet is lovely. I am careful about what I eat (protein with every meal, hardly any wheat, lots of fresh fruit and vegetables, no dairy and so on), I eat regularly, but if I fancy Green and Black’s or a glass of wine I have it. And who wants to go without treats? I mean, as amazing as Jennifer looks she must be soooo bored with grilled salmon and broccoli.
I stood in front of the mirror yesterday with a critical eye to make a proper assessment. I look alright, I decided. I have a size 10, slightly flabby but not that bad, can easily be disguised with clever dressing, body. If you took a random sample, most people would say I was slim. And the routine I follow to maintain this is something I can follow easily. So if this is where I stay, I could live with that, I declare to myself.
I walked away from the mirror and realised I was being kind to – and about – myself. That’s weird, I thought. I have spent so much of my life in the beating myself up camp.
But this doesn’t mean I don’t want to carry on my quest for a six-pack (or at least a smaller muffin-top; oh to bend over without my belly joining me) but I am just not going to hate myself along the way. Is this more of The Peaceful Warrior’s impact? Who knows?
So, as of today I am going to try to eat slightly less chocolate, be strict on no wine during the week (I have been a bit of a lush the last few weeks – bad girl) and stay away from the high fat parts of my diet, like goats cheese.
And that is it, I am not making any severe changes – just the thought turns my stomach and sends me running to the Green and Black’s aisle – but I am going to keep a beady eye on the treats.
I read last week that being slim is 80% diet and 20% exercise. It has been an interesting experiment to see if I could reinvent my body through exercise alone but it’s time to accept I haven’t achieved the results I want.
So, the experiment continues. Stage two: tweaking the diet. Please let it work as the thought of stage three is too much to bear. God, imagine doing something awful like meal replacement shakes, or one of my worst fears in life, imagine being hungry. But for now I am going to celebrate that my body is strong enough to don pink shorts and jump round the living room like a mad woman four times a week. Well done body.