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.
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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 27: The ongoing battle…
I was so close to just giving up this week. Giving up, having a temper tantrum and eating an extra large pizza in spite.
I felt like the real ‘f’ word. I felt FAT. (God, I hate that word)
It all started at my weigh-in. I’m the first to admit that the last week was far from perfect.
My tracking was more a case of jotting down a few bits and half-heartedly guessing the points value. Of course I was sure to mark all those tomatoes, lettuce leaves, apples or bananas I was munching.
I was less thrilled about the ice-cream or the Kit-Kat Chunky. I noticed it wasn’t the only thing that could get the word chunky thrown in after.
Feeling my jeans button tightening and knowing there was no point in running away from it, I didn’t even wait to make it to a class this week.
I took out my own bathroom scales the day before my weigh-in. And I’ll admit it.
I cried.
3lbs up. Not the best start to a day.
Where this used to be the motivation to kick-start my routine into overdrive, this week I learned the value of a group meeting afterwards.
Usually there’s a little network of women (and a few gentleman) who wrap you up in kind words of encouragement and support. Friday morning I was staring down at my rather chipped nail polish feeling very sorry for myself.
I’ve been through ruts. I know I will drop them 3 pounds again, but I know I need to try something different. I know I need a proper exercise routine.
Popping into the pool twice a week isn’t going to out-do all my ‘treats’. The sugar in my diet has a nice way of being put in my mouth and ending on my hips. Or bum.
As if that isn’t big enough.
I honestly think exercise is the missing link in my weight loss, ‘cause realistically it doesn’t matter what I eat if I’m not moving enough. And I’m 26, I don’t want to be on a constant points counting mission for the rest of my life.
I want to be able to relax it a little but know that my efforts in exercise means my milkshake won’t bring all the boys to the yard.
I don’t even like milkshakes but I think I’m making my point.
So I treated myself to a pair of exercise trousers (it even has a zip in the back for a key – this amazed me!) and I collected the gym classes timetable to plan what I could attend around my work schedule.
I’m less than graceful and athletic, but I’ve got a gut full of spirit (and you know chocolate) to push me through.
Having suffered through my last workout apocalypse, I think I’ll avoid squats this time.
If there’s no post next week, it’s after a mass murder in the gym. Someone held out on the Crunchie or diet Coke.
This week’s stats go a little something like this –
Height: 5ft 8
Starting Weight: 174 lbs
Current Weight: 158 lbs
Weight Loss To Date: 16 lb
Goal: 148 lbs
Feeling: A little dejected
The Dress in Question… NOW FITS!!
