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10 reasons why I fail at dieting (or why losing weight is not a piece of cake)

Tara Cain — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 08:01:00 +0000

1. I set myself unreasonable goals.
I have a pair of jeans that I adore. I wore them before I had babies and I want to wear them again.
Every time I shed a couple of pounds, I rip them out of my wardrobe and try them on. When I can’t get them over my thighs I am crushed.
Yes, I know my body parts have shifted around and settled in new and interesting places since giving birth.
Yes, I know it’s going to take time to get back to anything near my former glory days.
And yes, I know I am being too hard on myself.
But still, I do it every time and every time I throw them with great force back into the back of the wardrobe muttering ‘what’s the bloody point’ to myself.

2. I lose heart quickly.
This is linked to number 1. If I don’t lose 2lb every week without fail I think there’s something wrong with me. My heart sinks, my will to carry on sinks and I end up thinking I may as well just eat that whole packet of Jammy Dodgers for all the good this dieting lark is doing me.
I get disappointed with myself and give up. I feel like the only way I’m going to ever have significant weight loss is by being involved in some kind of chainsaw accident.

3. Any weight loss I do achieve I feel the need to ‘reward’ myself.
I wrote this down and thought ‘you silly bloody sod’. In work I march on through until the job is done. I am a completer finisher. I am not happy until the end result is achieved.
So why the hell can’t I apply that to me?

4. I don’t love my body. Never have.
This is a big downfall for me. Even in my prime (and I didn’t appreciate that I was in my prime until I passed my prime and started looking back and regretting that I didn’t enjoy my prime!) I didn’t like the way I looked – all big boobed and curvy.
And what worries me the most is, is this also another prime moment and will I be looking back in years to come thinking ‘I wish I looked like that now’. Hells bells, I cannot let that happen.
I know part of the process for change is accepting who you are right now, but what if you’re super critical and can’t find anything you like about yourself?
I know this sounds really really bad, but I’ll bet you there are many many people out there thinking ‘actually, that’s me. I’m the same’. Whether you’re fat, skinny, curvy, athletic or pretty much perfect, I’ll guarantee there are people who absolutely hate something about their look.

5. I’m impatient.
I want weight loss and I want it right now.

6. I bury my head in the sand.
If I have a disasterous day (no exercise, sat on my ass in front of the computer and devoured the contents of the fridge/cupboards/emergency stash in the car) I throw in the towel and say to myself ‘well there’s no point carrying on this week. I’ll start again on Monday/on the 1st of the month/when the sun starts shining.
I have every excuse for why I can’t do it NOW.
Also I know I have to lose weight for health reasons (I have a history of angina in the family) but I’ll almost pretend like it’s not one of the most important things to me and do the equivalent of putting my fingers in my ears and going ‘la la la la la’.

7. I cannot seem to switch off my appetite.
Does that make me greedy?
Sure I love food. I love good food. I’ll also eat crap because it’s there in front of me.
I’ve been to parties where I’ve eaten beforehand and am stuffed, but I’ll still go in picking away at the buffet. Oh, who am I kidding, I stand in line with a plate in my hand and I indulge.
Usually when I’m eating I don’t actually WANT it. Clearly I NEED it. For something other than satisfying my appetite.
I think I am what is known as an emotional eater. You know those people who just can’t eat when they’re upset or stressed or emotional? They just can’t stomach food? I am not one of those people.

8. I make excuses
I haven’t had anything sweet all week/day/hour.
I can’t see good food go to waste.
I hardly ate anything yesterday.
I’m peckish.
I can’t just have a cup of tea.
The packet’s open so we may as well finish them off.
Just the one then . . .

9. I blame everyone but myself
My children are to blame as they made me carry them around inside me for months, increasing my appetite, making me breastfeed, making me crave jam donuts then being so adorable I couldn’t bear to go back to the gym once they were in my life.
My husband is to blame as he is always offering me ice cream, a biscuit or 5 here, a bag of popcorn there.
My job was to blame because I was always so busy I had to eat on the run and then when the hunger pangs kicked in at around 3pm I had to visit the chocolate machine.
My family is to blame because they gave me defective genes.
My tastebuds are to blame because they went down the sweet route and made me desire anything and everything that’s been within breathing distance of sugar. Except Turkish Delight. If you told me I had to live off Turkish Delight, I’d be 10lb lighter in days.

10. I call it dieting.

I have made myself this list because I need to recognise where I am going wrong.
It’s like a food list – once you write if all down it comes as a bit of a shock just how much you are actually eating.

Do any of those ring true with you?

Picture: D Sharon Pruitt

Tara

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Should we eat like our children?

Tara Cain — Tue, 27 Jan 2009 08:00:28 +0000

Today I am not writing about boobs or celebrities or celebrities with big boobs or celebrities who are big boobs.

I was going to write about something different altogether, something inspirational, something radical, something to make your jaw drop (something I’m going to have be pull out of the bag now I’ve made those statements!)

Anyway, that will have to hold because last week I was really intrigued by Dave Fowler’s last post Do You Eat Like A Dog?

Intriged because I sat here reading it thinking ‘yes, yes, yes. That perfectly describes how I used to eat’. And I think we are all guilty of this to some degree.
Whether you’re bolting your dinner down because you have something pressing to do, or because the children are making demands of you, or you know that you’ve got to get the ironing done/watch ER etc and you’ve only got 15 minutes to spare.

How many times have you eaten a meal and not actually tasted it?
Shocking I know when you actually think about it, but I have done this same thing many many times.
I’ve even stood and eaten my dinner from the dish I cooked it in because I didn’t have time to serve it up!

And then I thought, but these things have all been learned. They are in our subconscious and it has almost becomes second nature to do it. As Dave said, you have to actually tell to yourself to slow down.

Watching my two children eat has been a bit of a revelation.
They eat at their own pace. They put their knife and fork down between mouthfuls. They chew and chew and chew. They finish the minute they have had enough.

I think we could all learn something from children.
They are clearly eating the way we used to before we became so busy we started shovelling it in.
They haven’t been tainted by experience. They have no real demands on their time.
And if they’re not hungry they simply won’t eat.

There is a strict rule in this house that ‘treats’ are never allowed between meals and only after you’ve eaten your dinner.
And yes, they always ALWAYS want something, but I can honestly say that many times they don’t actually eat it because they are full up.

That’s how I want to be.

So today I spent the whole day with my 3-year-old daughter and watched her. Really watched her.
We ate breakfast together and I finished way ahead of her.
We ate lunch and I tried to slow right down to match her pace.
And we ate tea when we were hungry and it lasted aaaages. But we chatted and joked ad it was actually kinda fun.

From now on my aim is to eat food for a. fuel and b. to enjoy it.
And tomorrow night the food fest begins with Hungarian goulash. Yum!

Do You Eat Like A Dog?

David Fowler — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 08:32:36 +0000

I was watching my dogs eat their food and noticed how they just bolted it down. It looked as though the food barely touched the sides. They were finished almost as soon as they’d started.

Picture: timtimes

It reminded me of my youth when I was able to drink a pint in three seconds flat. It was my claim to fame and really impressed the girls…. almost as much as my ability to burp very loudly! I was quite the babe magnet! Oh yes!

Anyway, having seen the dogs eat their dinner in this fashion I got to thinking about the way I eat my own food.

I wondered why I have to take in such big mouthfuls of food, barely chew it before swallowing it and then stuffing the next mouthful in.

This type of eating is something I associate most with going to one of the many outlets of Burger Shack. I get my burger, sit down unwrap it from the wax paper and set it down long enough to watch the melting cheese and relish slide down onto the wrapper along with a slice of juicy tomato. As the aroma drifts up to hit my nose I reach for the thing and take a massive bite, and then another and another until it’s all gone. I can’t help it though. Food like that can’t be eaten daintily, it has to be devoured.

That being the case, I’ve stopped eating burgers. It’s over too quickly and maybe only five percent of the taste ever hits my taste buds. What a waste.

So can I train myself to eat more slowly?

Well, I’m trying to do exactly that at the moment.

Meal times with the children are not always enjoyable events during which I can sit down, relax and enjoy the food. Meal times are often hard work with the children all needing some level of attention. The smaller children need to be convinced to eat and the older children want to argue and throw strops.

I find myself bolting my food down just to make sure I get to eat.

Yesterday evening I decided to eat smaller mouthfuls of food and to chew them slowly and deliberately. I found myself conscious of the tastes and combinations of flavours. I started experimenting with different combinations of taste and I savoured each mouthful.

It took me longer to eat my meal but I enjoyed it so much more. The extra time also gave my belly time to tell my brain it was full. I didn’t manage to finish what was on my plate but I was satisfied.

I’m definitely going to try this again. But not at Burger Shack. I simply haven’t got the will power.

So here’s what I’d love to know:

Why do we bolt our food?

Do you have any tips to slow me down?

Are you impressed that I can drink a pint in three seconds?

Are you really a size 12/14/16/18?

Tara Cain — Tue, 13 Jan 2009 07:30:54 +0000

This is a subject that really winds me up.

How can I go into one shop and fit comfortably into a pair of size 12 jeans and yet I go into the shop next door and I can bearly negotiate the waistband over my thighs?
What, did I put on half a stone walking from one shop to the next?
Did some fat genie manage to slap a couple of layers of blubber around my waistline when I wasn’t looking?

I cannot fathom why High Street shops haven’t cottoned on to this before now: when a woman comes into your store and finds her usual size only fits a waif-like teen with no bust and minimal curves SHE WILL HATE YOUR STORE FOREVER!

It is a fact of life that women seem to be governed by their clothes size.
Celebrities seem to covet that holy grail of the American size zero and if some minor star is being interviewed in a magazine about their “amazing weight loss” the first thing you’re told is how they went from “a hefty size 14, down to a super slim 10″.

A hefty size 14? That is going to make everyone who is a 14 or above feel like the size of a cow.

And if you’re naturally a UK size 8 or below you’re labelled ‘annorexic’, ‘unwell’ or (this was once levelled at a perfectly healthy but very slim woman I did a feature on in my former life as a features editor) ‘a f***ing disgrace’.

Hmm, I’ve gone off the boil on a bit of a rant there.

So, imagine you’re in a shop looking for a pair of jeans and you’re usually a size 14.
You try their size 14s on and they’re so tight you’re having trouble doing them up. Then – oh no – you can’t actually get them off again.
After struggling, breaking a nail, going all red in the face and then catching your reflection in the mirror do you go back out into the store and get a size 16?
Do you buffalo – you stalk out of that store swearing you’ll never shop there again because there is “no bloody way I’m a size 16!”

Yes, I KNOW it’s ridiculous and you should just buy the size that fits and what does it matter if it’s a 6 or a 16? I know there will be men reading this and thinking ‘what the?’.
But it’s Woman Nature. We know it’s ridiculous but psychologically we buy into the fact that we must fit a certain size and we WILL NOT venture out the other side of it.

All of which is my way of telling you that my clothes are a little looser. And I have had to start wearing a belt with my work trousers. And it makes me want to jump up and down a lot.
It has made me SO tempted to run out and buy buy buy something new. But I just know that I’ll get all disheartened and probably be rude to someone in the fitting rooms and then get upset and come home and eat a chocolate digestive. Or seven.

So instead, I emptied the contents of my wardrobe onto my bed and sorted it out into 3 sections:

1. Stuff I can wear now

2. Stuff I can wear in the very near future

3. Stuff that when I can wear it I will post of picture of me on here in just my underwear.

NOTE: Those trousers in the picture were my pulling trousers. In my pre-married days, those trousers did me proud. I loved them so much I had two pairs! I wore them on my hen night (not as pulling trousers, obviously!) and now they just sit there in my wardrobe as a grim reminder of, well, of how hot I used to be!

I want to wear those trousers again!

Tara

When your bust size hinders attempts to get fit

Tara Cain — Tue, 06 Jan 2009 08:00:20 +0000

I am sorry if I offend anyone with the following post, but it is something close to my heart and I need to get it off my chest – literally.

I am going to talk about bust size. My bust size.

I have put that sentence in bold italics so anyone who may find themselves upset about talk of large bras and boob pain can leave right now . . .
I am top heavy. Always have been.
Even in my slimmer pre-children days I was in a C cup, which for any guys out there who don’t know, it’s comfortably a large handful.

Now I am carrying extra weight, I am very top heavy.
I have gone up to an E cup. I flirted with D, then on to DD, then stopping off at the over-shoulder-boulder-holder E.
Of course, my husband thinks this is “bloody great. That is what cleveage is supposed to be like”.
But I HATE it.
“Think of all those women who pay to have a big bust,” he reasons.
“But they haven’t the first idea of how it feels and I bet you they’re bloody miserable after it’s done,” I reply.

First of all, having a larger bust means I look heavier than I actually am.

It also makes clothes buying a nightmare. How many shirts have I tried on that fit great but the buttons are straining to meet over my bra? Dresses are a no no unless I want to look like I’m on the game.

Then there is the fact that I feel like they are my face. Seriously, at work I had to remind a couple of guys that my eyes were in fact slightly north of where they were looking.

And finally, and most importantly here, they bloody hurt when I get physical. No, not THAT physical, I’m talking about when I’m running or jumping or taking up a slight jog (which is sort of why I took up walking instead).

Can you imagine what a nightmare jogging has become? I have to wear two sports bras to keep these babies under control.

I went through a stage thinking it must just be me. ‘Bloody hell’, everyone is thinking, ‘if that’s all you’ve got to moan about then I’d much rather be in your shoes’. But then a good friend of mine confessed she feels exactly the same (hello Michelle!) and I felt almost vindicated.

I know, I know, it’s all funny and you’re all going to think of jokes that use the words ‘uplifting’ but for me it has become a motivating factor.

Last week David Wright asked what our motivators were and I banged on about my health and my kids and my vanity. But then I stopped and thought about it and do you know what, I want to reduce the size of my bust to pre-baby size. Manageable size. A size that will fit back into the rather gorgeous underwear husband used to buy for me (which he doesn’t now because it’s usually met with a snort and a ’you don’t honestly think I’ll fit in there do you?’)

Weight gain and loss, coupled with babies and breastfeeding can play havoc with a girl’s boobage, so I know I am very lucky to have maintained a pair that don’t need to be tucked into my waistband or can sweep the carpet (as four-time mum Ulrika Jonsson apparently announced on Celebrity Big Brother this week!)

I suppose it’s the same for all of us – men or women – we don’t just want to look good, we want to feel good too.
Well, I don’t feel good with a pair of Es right under my nose. I want my little Cs back.

And yes, those are my very own bras in the photo. And no I cannot fit into most of them. I keep them ‘just in case’ and to remind me what I am aiming for.

NOTE: An update on the keep fit equipment I bought to aid my New Year, New Me approach.
The pedometer was a huge hit – with my 6-year-old son. When I get it back off him (he thinks it’s the best thing EVER and jogs around the house trying to beat the ‘high score’ of 10,000) I’ll let you know how many steps I’m achieving!

Is this Wii Fit all it’s cracked up to be? And a reboot

Tara Cain — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 09:00:36 +0000

Hands up who has gorged themselves over Christmas with promises of tucking a couple of weight loss resolutions under that oh-bloody-hell-it’s-expanding belt in the New Year.

Well that was me.
I gorged like I’d never set eyes on such delicious wonders before.
I gorged until I made myself feel sick. And then the next day I would the same thing again.
One morning I had a chocolate off the tree for breakfast.
Little by little the treats crept in. Then the walks tailed off. Then more treats crept in.

I hang my head in shame. Not just in front of you guys, but to myself. I feel like I really let myself down.
I feel totally GREEDY.
I shovelled stuff in because it was there. Because it was rude not to. Because it’s Christmas.
Yes, yes I had all the lame excuses I could possibly think of.
And now I sit and look at the wobble and the excess flesh and the thick waist and I could cry.

So now I am resolute.
I am absolutely determined to get back on my original keep fit and weight loss wagon and stop treating my body so shockingly bad.
I need to stop feeling so bloody awful about it all the time and just do it.
I sat on my bed on Christmas morning thinking ‘I’ll wear something nice and bright today, something festive’ but nothing felt right and nothing looked right.
I felt fat and frumpy and miserable. And yet still I ate my body weight in food.

One of the motivating factors behind my weight loss goals in the first place is for health reasons. My family has a history of angina and I don’t want to make that part of my history.
Honestly, I packed that rubbish away without a second thought as to what it was doing to my arteries. Or my poor face which has broken out in all manner of eruptions.
Seriously folks, I look after my skin like it’s made of thin paper, or gold, or delicately spun spiders webs, but it has taken the full brunt of my gluttony.
So that expensive face cream I treated myself to with the dregs of my birthday money? Bloody useless when it’s up against a sea of fat and sugar and E numbers.

I am determined not to fail this time.
I don’t want to sit on my bed all upset because my favourite clothes don’t fit comfortably. I want to be writing on here that ‘bloody hell, I got into my favourite jeans today’ or ‘hooray, my bust no longer feels like it has a life of it’s own’ (that’s a whole other post altogether though . . . ).
So, I have a keep fit/lose weight kit. And here it is:

1. A pedometer: I love walking and they say the best way to get fit is to do something you love. So I aim to walk as much as possible and hope to keep a tally of my ‘steps’ to see how I’m faring. I have no idea how many steps per hour/day/week is good, but I guess I just try to improve week on week.

2. Fit ball and skipping rope: I need to get rid of the bits of my body that wobble like a fat man’s chin, so I have to devise some aerobic and strengthening exercises. Yoga used to be my passion, so I aim to fit some of that in somewhere (more of that in a moment), but other than that I have a couple of exercises devised for me by a personal fitness trainer my husband paid for after baby number 2.

3. Water: This I have found really works for me. It surpresses my appetite and makes me feel great. Yes, that’s water. It’s free, it’s readily available and when my children see me drinking it all the time it encourages them to do the same.

4. Wii: Our shiny, new present from Santa which we have all become rather addicted to. We move seemlessly from a bout of tennis, to a touch of bowling, a game or two of baseball and, if we’re feeling really fit, a boxing match.
I have never had so much fun in my lounge!
I toyed with the idea of buying the Wii Fit for it but it’s so expensive and I don’t really know how good it is. I love the idea of being walked through some exercises in my own home (which I can fit it say after the children have gone to school, in during lunchtime, or in the evening) but just don’t know if it’s worth it.
I mean, I done the whole DVD thing. The Cindy Crawford one just had hubby hovering around the doorway muttering rude things, the Davina McCall one was just too bloody hard and the Shilpa Shetty yoga one was so boring I would actually run downstairs and put a wash on while making a cup of tea on the way back.
I also did the Geri Halliwell yoga one, which was OK, but once you’ve done it a couple of times and heard her say the same daft things 15 times, it’s now propping up the children’s easle after one of the legs broke.

So, my question to you out there in the know: Is the Wii Fit worth the money? Should I fork out or am I better joining a gym/paying for a class/saving my hard-earned cash?

I’m giving up

Tara Cain — Tue, 09 Dec 2008 07:00:37 +0000

I know, I know, shocking headline!
Rest assured I am most definitely NOT giving up on Blog To Fit, or throwing in the towel here.
Like David Wright yesterday, I am giving up the junk. Starting today.

For a couple of days now I have been keeping a written diary of what I eat.

OH. MY. GOD.

It isn’t until I saw it written down in black and white (or crayon as I’ve been reduced to sometimes) that I realised just how much food I shovel in my mouth every single day.

I am a grazer. I am a cow.
It has shocked me in to action once again.
I thought I was pretty healthy overall. I eat three balanced meals a day that I prepare from scratch, I eat plenty of fruit and veg and I glug down as much water as my body can take.
All I need to do is cut back a bit on the chocolate and biscuits and get moving, I thought.
But having kept that food diary I am appalled with my eating habits.

It is very clear that I eat when I am bored.

Which is not to say that I am sat around with nothing to do all day. Far far from it.
But I do find myself cruising by the fridge or the kitchen cupboards looking for a quick fix more often than I care to admit.

But at last week’s Wednesday Weigh In I challenged notSupermum to be really really good for one week – together, the two of us, supporting each other, egging each other on, seeing each other’s disappointing frown if we should ever stumble or fail.
Let me tell you notSupermum, as I wrote ‘mince pie’ on that list TWICE, I thought about you on every pen stroke.

Earlier this year I attended a couple of hypnotherapy sessions as part of my job (writing for a British newspaper) and it really worked for me.
I stopped eating for the hell of it. I ate when I was hungry and I drank more water than ever before because my body was telling me I was thirsty rather than in need of sustenance.
I lost 7lbs. Just like that. Without even trying or thinking about it.
But then I went through a stressful period at work and, well, once again I turned to food for comfort.

This is the challenge I face. Food is not fuel for me, it is a comfort, something to help me cope, something to see me through.
For some people it is drink or cigarettes or whatever vice they choose to mask emotion.
For me it is the ‘bad’ stuff. It is biscuits, it is chocolate, it is a slice of cake, it is another mince pie. It is something sweet after my dinner.
My ‘treats’ are no longer that because I indulge ALL THE TIME.

And so, at those hypnotherapy sessions I did pick up some really good tips which I am going to reintroduce myself to this week.
I do not want to fill my body with rubbish. I do not want to fill my body with fats that sit around my heart and my arteries and strip hours off my life.

So I am giving up the crap. Sure I know that at this time of year it’s going to be even more difficult than normal with so much temptation and so much stress, but I figure if I can do it now, well, I’m pretty much cruising.

So my question to you is: For the sake of your health, are you prepared to ditch it too?

Oh and the photo? Just some of the crap I gathered from around the house in 3 minutes flat in order to get a photo for this post.

I turned to the dark side

Tara Cain — Tue, 02 Dec 2008 10:00:15 +0000

I hold my hands up, I have turned to the dark side.

I have embraced flat shoes and the freedom to lounge around in comfy joggers when no one is looking because, well because I can’t bear the thought of buying clothes that make me feel more overweight than I actually am.

And I don’t like it one bit. I don’t want to be a slummy mummy. I don’t want to be that person who has a two-faced wardrobe – one side containing what I can wear now, the other containing the stuff I dream of being able to fit in one day.
And don’t anybody comment on here telling me it’s madness to have a can’t-quite-fit-into-it section in my wardrobe – I KNOW!

I have tried cutting back in the past. I swear to myself that I will give up goodies for the rest of the week. Just one week, I tell myself. That’s nothing right.
Well just try the rest of the day, a whole day is good.
Ok, ok if I can just make it the to end of the next hour . . .

I sometime rifle through my BB clothes (Before Babies) and moon over that killer dress I used to adore, or the expensive jeans I can barely get over my thights let alone do up.
It just makes me more miserable and I end up comforting myself with a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit. Or two.

I am not going to be that person any more.
I don’t want a wardrobe stuffed with hardly-worn gorgeous clothes that fit me perfectly before I bore two children but now sit there as some grim reminder of what I used to be and what I am most definitely not now.

Shoes as well. I have some shoes in there that Sarah Jessica Parker herself would covet and I can no longer squeeze my chubby little feet into them.
OK, so they’re not chubby but they’re certainly bigger. Putting weight on your feet! No one tells you that when you’re skipping around all delighted that you’re going to have a baby.

How many of you are nodding your heads in recognition?

So I am attempting to change and being a part of this community seems to be making all the difference.
When I’m hovering over the biscuits I actually think of Mom/Mum’s dedication at Thanksgiving.
When I’m thinking to myself I’ll just have one scoop of ice cream I can see Dave Fowler’s near naked form (ye gods!) and I step away from the freezer.
Even those not taking part have joined in, offering their support, and it is very very much appreciated.
I know that there are some people reading this site who do not have a blog, but who come here for the laugh, for a bit of fun and for the sense of community. They are lurkers and they too are very very welcome – I’m looking directly at you here Michelle Sperry!
Just please please don’t be put off by the men talking about underwear and Speedos!

The top and tail of it is, this really seems to be working for me.

Yesterday, despite the freezing cold weather and frost nipping at the air, I walked into town.
I left the car at home and walked the 80 minutes round tip - with pushchair and child in tow.
There are a couple of challenging inclines so I really feel like I’ve worked hard by the time I’m on the home run heading for the front door.

I really enjoyed it.
And if you can find that my friends, that thing that you can do which is fun and gives you a buzz and makes you feel ALIVE, then you will find success.

For these past two weeks I have been concentrating on getting my food intake right.
Next week I will try to increase my activity levels.
I’ll keep you posted.

Oh and by the way, those aren’t THE shoes I own that I can’t get in to. Clearly it would be madness to own a pair of shoes that cost £905, with me being a mother with commitments and all . . .
(ThatGirl, I can hear you from here, stop drooling!)

Dave has posted another update today too. He’s talking about squats and dips (no, not the edible variety) and there is no talk of nudity or pants, although I did see mention of his thighs . . .

Daniel Craig I Am Not

David Fowler — Thu, 20 Nov 2008 06:20:20 +0000

I’ve just turned 40, I’m overweight and out of shape but I’m pretty excited about it.

Sounds odd, I know, but let me explain….

I’ve been looking forward to turning forty for quite some time now because I recognise it as one of those coming of age moments.

I fully expect my forties to define me. I feel that this decade will be ‘my’ decade, not just in the arena of fitness but life in general.

I loved my thirties because that’s the decade in which my children were born, but with regard to my physical condition, they weren’t exactly my proudest years.

For the last ten years I’ve usually been somewhere between 30 and 40lbs overweight and at varying degrees of fitness ranging from unfit to nearly fit. I’ve had glimpses of a 6 pack and I’ve carried a modest amount of muscle, but neither of those conditions is reflected in my current state.

I could reel off the usual raft of excuses but I’m not going to.

Whilst I’m happy to learn from the past I’m not going to dwell there.

This venture is all about my present. It’s about making good decisions and taking action to bring me a fitter future.

From the outset I want you to know that it is not my intention to set myself impossible fitness goals.

I have no immediate aspirations to look like [insert name of physically fit looking actor dude here] although I see nothing wrong with taking inspiration from such individuals.

I’m not going all out to get super-fit, I just want to achieve what I know is possible for ‘me’ given ‘my’ unique set of circumstances.

What’s possible for famous actor dude, may not be possible for me, and that’s fine for now.

The changes for the better start right now.

There are two habits I want to develop:

The habit of regular exercise
The habit of managing my food intake

Regular exercise does not mean a punishing and unrelenting daily routine of pain inducing exertion.

It means having fun with fitness, mixing it up and keeping it interesting.

In a similar way, managing my food intake does not mean existing on a
diet of broccoli and water – nor does it mean having to give up absolutely everything I enjoy.

I want to take a sustainable approach to both elements and build them into a lifestyle I can enjoy for years to come.

Next Thursday I’ll tell you what I want to achieve and how I’m going to do it. Thereafter you can expect a brief daily update every morning.

On a final note, I’m determined to get some great results and as a mark of my determination I’ll be posting some pictures of my progress for all to see. So next Thursday you’ll be able to see the before pic whether you want to or not. You’ve been warned!