It Started With A Dress: The Foodie Realisation Week

In a new weekly feature, Her.ie newbie Liz is going to share her weight loss journey. She’ll be filling you in on fighting temptation, her willpower struggles with the cocktail menu and taking painfully slow steps towards regular exercise. All in the name of a dress. _____________________________________ Hanging on the wall at the end of my bed is the constant reminder I plan on shedding nearly two stone this year. I also plan on marking the trials and tribulations of ‘trying to be good’ – the favourite saying we all tout, and quickly replace when a cake is put in front of us. Week 53: Apparently I’m ‘normal’ I’ve never been a big fan of the gym. Don’t get me wrong. I can go in, do my hour and walk away feeling proud of myself. I might even have walked out a few times wanting to self-five myself. After a serious run on the treadmill, or like last week, where despite desperately wanting to go home from work straight to my bed, I ended up on a rowing machine. What can I say?

And I also have to do something to counteract the cupcake obsession.

The only thing was, I wasn’t seeing much of a difference. Yes, cardio machines are always going to burn some calories, and a few weights will stop the downward slope of a bingo wing, but my body wasn’t making the changes I was hoping for.

It was disheartening and if I’m honest, made me want to throw in my sweaty gym towel.

I know you can’t change your body overnight, and I’ve also heard a rumour that abs are made in the kitchen.

If someone could pass me the recipe, that’d be swell. Right now I’m at a loss and I refuse to subject myself to starvation. I enjoy food too much.

The problem is, I’ve lost my mojo. My will to eat well. My love of good, healthy, prepared food.

I know this sounds stupid, and I’m sure you’re going to think I’ve been taken over by some clean-eating police, but I’m addicted to fatty foods.

My body craves sugar, fats and salt.

If I eat a meal, I want a chocolate bar. If I have a tipple of two, the sugar comedown means I now want a McDonalds.

It’s not good food, It’s fast food. And I need to break that cycle again.

I literally need to hire this man in my life…

The truth is, once I start eating healthily, and get into the rhythm of it, I prefer it to that original alternative.

Fresh food is filling, tasty and nutritious. I also tend to sleep better, have glossier hair, clearer skin and a trimmer waist.

All thanks to some preparation. If only I could get enthused by it. Weight loss is great, but it’s also pretty slow if you want to make a change that’s maintainable. I'm a big believer in magic... just sometimes you need to know where to draw the line. And that usually involves anything that promises you overnight results.

 

So rather than moan and complain, and pretend not to fathom how I could possibly be plateauing, I went to my instructor in the gym.

I asked to be booked into a session and an assessment.

I got on a bike, we tested my fitness, went through my health list, my goals and then she asked me a very important question.

“What do you want out of this?”

I knew it was more than a weight thing. It’s very rarely just about the pounds.

So I told her. I was honest that I wanted to feel confident in my own skin.

I don’t need to be tiny, or resemble a model. I’ve always had hips and curves, and I quite like them if I’m honest.

They make me feel feminine, and I don’t have any intention of depriving myself of food.

So we set some goals, and I had my weight, inches and body fat computed.

Apparently I’m in the normal range for body fat, but not the ideal. This was no surprise to me. I’m a size 12 who could afford to drop a few pounds. I’m careful about having a balance in indulgence and exercise.

So now I have a six week target.

It’s not based on a number on the scales, or the inches around my waist.

It’s about improving my fitness and bringing me down closer to my ideal body fat.

And from next week, I’ll consider what the scales report back, but for now?

I plan on enjoying my bank holiday weekend.