Apparently if you eat constantly and stop exercising all your clothes shrink.
This time last year I lost about 20lb and built up some serious muscle mass in the swimming pool and the hot yoga studio. Then mid-year, a shoulder injury stopped me swimming and hot flashes kept me from hot yoga. Wow, being old sucks.
Anyway, banned from my favourite exercise pursuits, I medicated my frustration with chocolate. The trip to England didn’t help either, with fish and chips, cream teas and proper chocolate beckoning from every corner. It was awesomely yummy, but the memories are fresh on my waist.
With my 50th birthday fast approaching I figure I can choose between entering this new phase of my life as a frumpy, dumpy housefrau, or skipping in fit, slim and gloriously stylish. Clearly I have a lot of work to do.
So, the point here is that I took the plunge and joined the gym. I started off with a session with a personal trainer who told me I am massively fat – or she may not have actually phrased it that way, but I’m sure that’s what she was thinking from over there in her size zero Lulu Lemons.
She also told me to give up eating chocolate which seems a little extreme. What’s the point of exercise if it doesn’t give you a bit of leeway with your sugar intake?
The first class I tried was called Fit ABSolution. Lying on the floor we were instructed to engage our abdominals and pull up to a seated position, which the others achieved with varying degrees of groaning and grunting. I, on the other hand, completely lacking abdominal muscles of any description, flailed around with my legs in the air, desperately trying to build up enough momentum to propel my earth-bound torso skyward. Walrusses are more graceful.
I’ve put learning to do a sit-up right at the top of my personal training goals.
I gather that exercising should give you more energy and help control food cravings, but so far it’s just making me exhausted and starving hungry. And I’m supposed to satisfy that will celery and whole grains. As if!