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 do the same thing again.
Because it was Christmas.
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 my internet conscience, 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 what you do at 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 determined to get back on my 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.
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 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 to everyone who is going through the same as me, be resolute, think about the long-term gain and let’s be the person we want to be.