Pole Dancing

Prior to Sexy twins wedding we celebrated her Hens night on a lake cruise. In addition to 30 odd tipsy women and Raspberry Vodka cocktails (wow, anyone else thinking alcoholic yet based on my post history?!) there was a lovely dancing pole in the centre of the boat. Well, after said cocktails I formed some what of a love affair with the pole. Never has so much fun been had at a party for me. In my pre-fab days you would never have caught me throwing myself precariously and seductively (hey it's a strippers pole, let's be honest!) at a pole. A packet of salt and vinegar chips, perhaps - anything that required any sort of muscles or co-ordination on my behalf, not a chance.

So, after spending an exhilarating (and intense exercise) night with "the pole" I decided to try my hand at pole dancing classes. I found a women's only pole gym in Canberra http://wwwfitsistas.com.au/ and enrolled in one term. I absolutely loved it. My pole dancing repertoire now contains moves such as the 'scissors', the 'nut cracker' (it's as bad as it sounds if you miss-judge this move), and my personal favourite; 'the pony'.

It's a funny thing pole dancing. Despite the classes being women only, somehow dancing in itty-bitty shorts in front of a wall of mirrors to Britney Spears latest hit (???) looking a little uncoordinated as you try and grapple the pony with a slow descent into the scissors, you feel sexy!

Each week I would come home and wish I had a pole in my bedroom so I could show Muscle Man my strength (I can now climb half way up said pole you see) and perhaps ooze a little spice into the bedroom. Alas, attempting to show people the nut cracker on a bus stop is a lot less sexy (possibly because on a bus stop it is a guaranteed nut cracker!). Admittedly I've actually Ebayed poles and practically taken measurements of floor to ceiling distance to determine if it's possible to fit one in the house ;o) Ebay certainly sells poles but the thing that allot of people may not realise is that a true dancing pole will actually spin on it's own axis, making each 'trick' easier to perform. Spinning poles are roughly $400-$700 which makes me think I'd need to 'work' the pole to pay off the pole!

A few days ago Nardi was shopping in Priceline when she happened upon a dancing pole for sale! Well, you can imagine her surprise (it is Priceline after all) and excitement as she dialed my number to report her find. I take it as a reflection of our true friendship when my besty rings me to advise of such a sale. I excitedly assured her I would scope out Priceline this week to assess their poles (doesn't sound quite right does it...).

Well, today I ventured into Priceline. Sure enough in the aisle with Celebrity Slim meal replacement shakes, thigh masters and ab-doers sat a stand of dancing poles, or as they are labelled "Fitness poles" (perhaps this is a preventative measure to stop people opening their own home strip clubs?!). Well, aghast and excited all at the same time I raced (as subtly as possible when one is carrying a piece of equipment primarily identified in the sex industry) to the checkout to enquire as to the cost. It reminded me of the first time I ever bought tampons, or a pregnancy test where despite the fact you'll never see these people again you blame it on a close friend. You know the old "I think this is the one she was after.......". Well the pole, believe it or not, was only THIRTY DOLLARS!!

Upon hearing the price I was seconds away from making the purchase when a few thoughts ran through my head. Does this pole spin, how much weight can it hold, can I use this pole to pay off some debt (jokes), where will I put it? Our bedroom is decidedly too small for any of my myriad of tricks so it would have to be the lounge room. Hmmm, this then begs questions such as "what will I tell my mother-in-law, or random guests". As much as I am sure dinner parties would be a blast with my encouraging friends to bring appropriate "pole attire" to have a swing in between the entree and the main, I am sure more than curious looks would be attracted by some. "Hello friend, please hang your hat over our coat stand and never mind the fact we have had to temporarily glue hooks on in between using it as a pole to disguise the fact it is actually a POLE". So, with these thoughts running through my head I decided to leave the pole where it was sitting and re-enroll in another term of classes at FitSistas! Who knows, maybe by then Nardi will have erected one for me on her party deck (either that or tomorrows blog will announce I bought it).

A Tale of Two Dresses

You may have to bear with me being a little 'blog happy' of late. I really should have started journelling a long time ago, but alas like many "should have/could have/would haves", I did not. I am now playing catch up with my thoughts.

You may recall from an earlier entry that one of the catalysts to loosing weight was my younger sisters wedding. Prior to this event I had mostly always been unhappy with my weight and had tried and failed many, many times to change the situation.

I had believed it was a simple matter of clicking my fingers and changing my eating and exercise habits, without realising that MY habits in regard to diet and fitness ran much, much deeper than merely the food I consumed or undertaking to walk around the clothesline twenty times a day. Upon reflection, and allowing myself to be honest, I now know that my habits in this regard were entwined with everything that surrounded my being overweight in the first instance. I blamed failed relationships on my weight, I blamed poor grades at school, I blamed my weight and my emotional state on being such a complete an utter failure, and essentially of feeling unworthy of change, and with all this blame came more weight gain.

Being an out-going person I suspect that many people did not realise the gravity by which I was affected with my physical appearance. During her School years, my younger sister was hospitalised with an eating disorder and in many ways it felt like her actions were setting the precedent for how to gain attention if unhappy with ones appearance. Yet on the other hand, her actions were also, unbeknown to her, taking such a toll on my parents, that I couldn't possibly have added to the stress and emotion being felt within our family during this time. In reality though I was an extremely unhappy person who loathed herself enormously and desperately wished I could just be 'skinny' like everyone else.

As a result of my self-loathing and low self-esteem I continually settled for less. Time and time again I settled for boyfriends and relationships where I often came out second-best and terribly scathed. I didn't believe I was worthy of more than this. I even believed myself to be a failure because I couldn't self-harm (which of course seemed to be the way to "relieve" ones sense of pain, a release if you will ). I recall so vividly one day in early high school crying in the bathroom at my parents house about the fact that I couldn't sustain a self-pledged attempt at anorexia. I believed quite simply that I was a failure. I believed I failed at everything.

Despite a social awareness, society continues to place enormous pressure on women to fit the seemingly acceptable physical mould. I recognise that we currently have an obesity issue in this great country, and indeed many others, but I also recognise the fact that first and foremost to a size 10 bikini should come the education regarding healthy lifestyles within our nation. Rather than focusing on the latest slinky fashions, we need to be boosting our children's self esteem, informing them of healthy choices and realising our individual potential to be healthy human beings with enormous potential to live full rich lives.

Not quite two years ago when my younger sister asked me to be the Matron of Honour at her wedding. I was extremely honoured. However, in the same breath as being honoured I was petrified. All my high school memories came flooding back. Being the "fat" girl at school dances. Standing besides my beautiful friends in their mini skirts and crop tops whilst I was wearing a pair of baggy jeans and an Adidas jumper (oh so tragic). Spending summers on the School oval wearing three times the quantity of clothing as my peers in an effort to disguise the bulges, all the while sweltering and looking like a fool. Sitting beside the pool at swimming carnivals, rather than in it, for fear of being seen in swimmers. Yes, the fear of being the fat bridesmaid was overwhelming and I was being suffocated by images of me in a caftan ensemble tripping down the aisle and baring my hefty bottom to all and sundry. SOMETHING HAD TO BE DONE!

Cue October 29, 2006 - In all honesty I still felt like a walking bunch (not individual stalk) of asparagus, but by this point I had well and truly began the journey of self belief and personal encouragement I had been so lacking. I had lost roughly 13 or so kilos by the wedding and whilst I can't honestly say I looked sexy, I felt sexy because I knew my own potential, both that moment and for the future.

Now, cue March 15, 2008 - I was again privileged to be Matron of honour in a wedding. Sexy twins wedding. Despite Bob being 4.5 months old and my lovely baby bulge being slightly visible, for the first formal event in my life (with the exception of my own wedding) I felt outwardly sexy! I was wearing a dress, and a rather fitted one at that, and felt great. I do genuinely realise the value of inner beauty, and I absolutely believe inner beauty far outweighs the outwardly body we posses, but for someone who has wished to attain outer foxiness in a dress for as long as she can remember, it was a proud day!

~ Younger sisters wedding. Starting to feel really good about my abilities - despite looking like a bunch of celery (with a hat) ~

~ Sexy Twins wedding - feeling sexy! ~

Getting Dressed

I am sitting here waiting for Muscle Man to get home from work. I have conveniently persuaded him to take young Bob with him to pick up Jim from "Little School" so that I can go for a run before I lose the light. The sun seems to be setting around 5.45pm these days so if I am not out the door, racing up the streets, by 5.30 at the latest, I feel I've missed the boat and laziness sets in.

Muscle Man joked that he would get me a hat with a torch attached, such as they wear when mining, to enable my running at night. I told him not to joke, I actually want one :o) But in all seriousness aside from the dark, there is always the very real and unnerving thought that it's not entirely safe for a female to be out wandering (OK, jogging) the streets at night alone. Especially one who has now lost weight equivalent to her left thigh and feels quite sexy and powerful whilst running.

Muscle Man is expected home any moment and now that I have lovingly convinced him to take Bob (hmmm, that could sound like I performed some kind of pleasurable favours, which I ASSURE you I did not) I must get out and prove my worth on tonight's run (rather than take the oppurtunity of a completely silent house to have a sleep!). I am currently sitting here in my Ugh boots, a blanket sized jumper, hair in a state of disarray and parachute sized track suit pants. Hey, surely we all agree the biggest, daggiest clothes are the most comfy for slothing around the house in! I know the minute I don my running leggings, singlet top and sweat bands (joke) I'll be all psyched and set for running. The main thing holding me back at this very second, is the situation with my sneakers! Oh well, in the interim to buying new amazing shoes that carry me the distance without any effort on my behalf, I shall make do with the shoes I have and hope tonight's efforts don't result in any sudden dislocation of the little toe (any excuse to quit right).

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Am home from tonight's run. I must remember to stretch better after completing each run as tonight I felt stiff as a board. On that note, off to stretch now!

Winter and Old Shoes

Two separate things, both worth mentioning in today's blog.

Let's start with winter. Muscle Man, Jim, Bob (still invokes a giggle) and I, live in Canberra. Our beautiful Nation's Capital. Canberra is truly a beautiful city and has so much to offer. However, the winters are bitterly cold. You can usually mark the change in the weather to a tee with Anzac day representing one of the last "warmish" days until winter passes. This year has proven no exception. Today did not see the temperature exceed 9 degrees, and in true Canberra form we had the wind chill blowing off the nearby snow-capped (so I am told) Brindabella Mountains.

This morning as I hung the washing on the line in a misguided attempt at drying it, I suffered my first bout of frost bite for the year. My poor fingers required some tender loving care from the combination of wet clothes and blistering cold winds. I'd have put them under the hot water tap once inside but to this day I am still scarred by the tales of being able to make someone wet their pants by alternating hands between hot and cold water :o)

Anyway, point taken, it was cold. So, tonight when I set off on my run I was met with equally as horrid conditions outside. My poor droplets of sweat never stood a chance. The instant they formed their perfect tear shape and prepared for their descent to earth they turned to jagged stalagmite's. By the time I arrived home I was a glistening prism of sweat icicles. Add to this the fact that it was really too cold to run, but in the same vain it was far too cold to walk. What was I to do? In my "pre-fab" days I may have curled into the foetal position and rocked wildly back and forth, terrified at the mere thought of exercising, let alone doing so in winter.

None the less, in true fabulous form I triumphed. I lumbered (it was too cold for anything remotely graceful) along my usual path to complete my chosen run, and despite my legs seizing up from the conditions, I even managed to cut 2 minutes off my usual time. Must have been an urgent desire to arrive inside the warmth of my house and a home cooked meal (with the thanks of Mrs McCain).

Now, the second issue with tonight's run - my joggers! My physio has advised me that a good pair of joggers will last between 1,000-,1500 kms before needing replacing. Well, my poor joggers are not even fit to be put to pasture, they need instant dismissal. Straight to the bin. Not even St Vincent De Paul's would benefit from the shoes I am currently running in. As I was jogging along, trying to distract myself from the fact my breath was smoking in front of me (I initially tried distraction by blowing ice rings - no such luck when you are running at a steady pace in the dark) I was calculating the number of kilometres these shoes have served me. Based on rough calculations I estimate I have jogged as follows:

24 weeks since I began jogging after the birth of Bob. An average of 6 times a week over that 24 weeks. An average of 30kms a week over that time. Drum roll please, cue theme music from Jaws....da da da da de de de doh doh (Ok, way off track with the theme music)...... 24 x's 6 x =144 x's 30 = 4,320 kms in my trusty joggers! OOOPS!! And just to demonstrate how ready for retirement they are:

As you can see, my toes are poking out the sides! All I can say is thank goodness jogging does not require any sudden twists or bursts to the side - I could break a toe with those holes! Moral of this story: run with thermal underwear, gloves and a balaclava (wonder how the general public would react to that) and buy NEW shoes!

Bloated!

We have just had friends over for dinner and the traditional game of cards, 500 to be precise. It's been a long standing tradition to indulge our love of food and competition with these friends over a glass of vino (of course).

Muscle Man cooked a home mad pumpkin gnocchi pasta. Not too shabby for MM. I am however now so full that the mere thought of packing the dishwasher is alarming and encouraging my belt to expand of it's own fruition.

One thing I have learnt along this weight loss, healthy lifestyle process, is the need to eat slower, savour my mouth-fulls, and identify when I am satisfied and STOP eating. For years I have psychologically set myself up to eat everything on my plate, all the food in front of me -simply because it's there. I've also conveniently justified eating excess food by consuming an extra serving in recognition of starving families around the globe. Admirable thought perhaps, quickest route to excess weight gain guaranteed!

So, this week I am going to make it my goal to really think before I put food to my lips. To ensure that I am making a conscious decision regarding what I am choosing to ingest. I am going to try to think about the calorie content and aim to enjoy foods that contain a high nutritional value. I am going to think about wasted calories (such as found in soft drink) and choose to eat foods that will benefit my body, and fuel my energy levels.

I also need to remind myself that I am still nursing an infant. Bob is only 6 months of age and I have been a slave to the sweat and burn of exercise and conscious eating since he was a mere 10 days old. Sexy Twin was married 4.5 months after Bob's beautiful arrival into the world and whilst I don't regret the fact that I put head down, bum up to get into shape for Sexy Twins wedding, I do need to gently remember that I am nourishing not one, but TWO people with this amazing body (physiologically) of mine. Bob will benefit from healthy food choices and high water consumption also.

The human body is an amazing thing and I am constantly reminded of our need to care for, and nurture our bodies to ensure we individually reach our peak performance. Not to mention, this feeling that my buttons about to ping off my pants and hit me in the eye simply ain't pleasant :o)

I can eat whatever I want!

OK, this is no truer today then it was two years ago when I wore that ridiculous t-shirt! I think from memory I was actually trying to make an attempt at false confidence by wearing a tongue in cheek slogan. None the less, whilst I still can't eat whatever I want without consequence (i.e. a 7km run to back it up, or some additional padding to the love handles) I do believe I could almost wear this shirt now without the stigma it may have held for me before!

~ Before - 80kgs (8 kgs down) 2006 - After- 69.5kgs (18.5kgs down) 2008 ~

Mind over matter

So often exercise comes down to this for me.

Will I, won't I? Should I, can I?

I generally have a handful of good and valid reasons not too bother. At the moment it's the fact that Muscle Man is still away so I have Jim and Bob and no spare hands. I had a day off exercise yesterday for this reason though and in all truthfulness this excuse actually doesn't stick. I have sufficient weights for a home training session, I have a treadmill which works fine, I have a twin jogging pram which I run with on my own regularly. So what's really the excuse?

Laziness. Pure unadulterated laziness. I simply can't be arsed today. But, not being arsed was what landed me in the doldrums of being overweight in the first instance so mentally I realise laziness simply isn't good enough.

I read a comment on a blog written by Shauna Reid, aka: Dietgirl http://www.dietgirl.org that the Biggest Loser trainer, Gillian Michaels had this to say regarding exercise:

"there's never a moment when I'm lifting a weight or doing a push-up where I think I love this! But I love the results."

http://www.dietgirl.org/dietgirl/2007/08/set-the-night-o.html

That is so very true and in the same regard, there is NEVER a time after exercise where I regret having moved my butt. Quite the opposite in fact. I feel immense pride that I DID get up and move my booty. So, with that in mind I need to get off said deriere and start this weights session!

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45 mins of weights over and done with, situp's, squats - the works. Mind over matter really is the key (oh and a little motivation never goes astray).

Biggest Loser

I've just finished watching tonight's episode of the Biggest Loser. First up it has to be said SAM AND BRYCE ROCK! I'd be stoked if either of those guys won. All the contestants have come so far and it really is amazing to watch their emotional growth, alongside their phsyical reduction.

On tonight's episode they showed the contestants audition tapes. Even though I was easily 30-50kgs lighter to begin with then almost all of them, I could completely relate to the heartache each of them were feeling in the initial stages of their BL journey. Sure, not to the same extent and I won't pretend I know how it feels to weigh so much that a finish line is simply not visible, but I do know how it feels to loathe looking in a mirror, or clothes shopping. I know how it feels to have such low self-esteem that you hide behind whatever you can. Be it enormous clothes, a good sense of humour, a brick wall, a million excuses for your weight. Whatever it is, at one point or another anyone who has issues with their physical appearance will try and hide behind something. Try to be oblivious and unseen in a room full of people (even though half the time you are incredibly aware that you are the first one seen based on size!).

I recall so vividly during College and High school wearing the biggest jumper I could find and baggy pants, yet standing beside Sexy Twin wearing midriffs (somehow they were cool back then) and hipster jeans and feeling such immense envy, but also such huge shame over my own body, and my body image.

I have come to learn that we absolutely place the highest criticism on ourselves and see all the flaws which others may not. I think when you are unhappy with your own appearance, or personality, you tend to LOOK for flaws. flaws that in actual fact could just as easily be wonderful, unique traits that others love unconditionally.

Being unhappy with oneself is really like a monkey on your back. You constantly nit-pick (ewwww) and look for something to remove. One of my proudest achievements with my weight loss is gaining a sense of self respect and slowly, but surely, learning to love myself!

I hope the contestants from the BL can, or have, learnt the same.

Desperate Housewives

For the last few years, sexy twin and I have indulged our love of wine, the TV show Desperate Housewives, and good friends and partaken in a regular Monday night tradition of watching the show, drinking wine and eating good food in the presence of fine company.

There are 4 of us in on this tradition. Sexy Twin, JP, Nardi and myself. (Names changed to protect identities ;o) ). We take it in turns to play host. Whoever hosts puts on a little supper and the rest of us bring the vino. It's a fabulous arrangement, and as we agreed last night it's the best cure for the dreaded Mondayitis!

Ordinarily we have lovely cheeses, dips, crackers and so forth. However, yesterday morning when I woke up and sent the standard "YAY it's DHW night" email, I decided to make us dessert! I rarely crave sweet foods but when I do I feel the need to willingly obey my taste-buds desires and succumb to chocolate!

Aside from wine which I flat out refuse to sacrifice (I'd rather run an extra 5ks than give up my lovely friends white, red and rose) I generally eat very well. So when I have cravings I try and make sure they can be accommodated as healthily as possible. I am a firm believer in balance and I can honestly say that over the past two years I have never consciously been on a "diet". I have changed portion sizes, eliminated certain foods and abstained from bathing in vats of oil. Aside from this, increasing my exercise (OK, let's be honest, beginning exercise) and keeping a sensible eye on what I eat has been the key factors to my ability to loose weight and keep it off.

My besty, Nardi, has just started some personal training sessions with me (brave considering I ain't qualified). Anyway, I am always very conscious of not sabotaging any ones health efforts. I know how unhelpful and frustrating it can be when you have the best of intentions and chocolate gets in the way! So, with this in mind and also conscious of my own eating habits I decided to prepare a delicious low fat, low calorie dessert. To this affect I decided to scourge the aisles of the local Woolworth's to see what tasty treats I could whip up on a low calorie budget!

And voila - a yummy fresh fruit platter, weight watchers chocolate mousse (half serving each) and a fancy looking brandy snap basket with strawberry yogurt, fresh fruit drizzled in passion fruit and a small dollop of lite thickened cream.

Hmmmm, do you think it's too early in the day to indulge in another ;o)

Fit or not?

I went for my standard jog tonight. I generally jog about 7kms 4-5 times a week and love it. OK so not the actual jogging part, but the after jog satisfaction and immense feeling of completion that follows. Normally I'll be jogging along feeling like Kate Winslet leaning precariously off the helm of the Titanic with Leonardo behind me yelling "I'm king of the world". Jogging makes me feel strong, tough, "Queen of the World". Tonight was not like that at all, but rather a case of Kate hanging off the back of the boat about to plummet to my death in desperation!

I continually find it odd how sometimes jogging, or exercise in general for that matter will feel like a breeze one day and a struggle of enormous proportions the next. Tonight I had decided that 20 minutes would suffice (rather than the 30 I do usually do as standard). Muscle Man was heading off in an hour on yet another work trip so 20 minutes would certainly do, and give me time to appreciate him before he left. Well not 2 minutes into my run and I was cursing the fact I hadn't just stayed at home and lapped up the full hour before he left. Heck, I could have had a 20 minute nanna nap instead!

I had decided to jog along the "ridge" behind my street. A 5 km (there and back) stretch of dirt, hills and open paddocks. I planned to jog to the end and back again and stop when the going got tough. As I began my run I had a million thoughts running through my head. "You are an impostor, a fake, a wannabe trying to pretend you are some kind of athlete" was the most dominant thought taking place. None the less I decided to push my wannabe athletic body and continue the chosen course.

As I passed people leisurely walking their canines I hoped my breathing (or lack thereof) was not giving away the degree of difficulty I was facing. The desire to quit while I was ahead, take my bat and ball, and go home. Jogging along, listening to tunes on my Ipod, I was having this mental battle between strength and weakness. Thoughts of being hopeless and fradulant were intercepted with thoughts that I was a strong, capable women who could, and does, leap small buildings in a single bound and that I run this distance numerous times a week and SUCCEED! Today would be no different!

Well, sure enough 28 minutes later I was nearing the end of my course and whilst I was still feeling an enormous degree of difficulty I was SO close to home that giving up was not an option. As I neared the end I felt the familiar surge of adrenalin and mental strength that comes with each run and sprinted the last 100metres home. Upon reaching the front door I felt the familiar "Queen of the World" attitude and happily agreed I am ROCKY (well, in my own backyard right?!).

Who Am I?

..........blog happy today, clearly!

But in all seriousness, how does one really start a blog? Do you tell all and sundry about yourself, what you ate for breakfast? What clothes I've just hung on the line? How much money is in my bank account? My inner-most secrets? Or do you keep things nice and fluffy and anonymous?

Well, I no longer qualify for anonymity. I've just posted photos of my fat and skinny arsed self all over the net :o) So, I guess with that in mind and not wishing to divulge the above (especially my bank details) I'll start simplistically.

I am currently a stay at home Mum (SAHM) of two young boys. Aged 3 years and 6 months old. I think I'll afford them some anonymity so will give them code names for the purpose of this exercise (hey, typing burns calories don't you know?!). Anyway, I'll call my oldest son "Jim" and my youngest "Bob". Tee hee, Jim-Bob! Anyone know a certain family in America with 18 kids? Anyway, Jim & Bob are the off spring of moi (said in my best Kath & Kim voice) and my spunky husband who shall from now on be known as "Muscle-Man".

Muscle-Man and I live in Australia - yep, the lucky country! We have been married these past 5 years and for 3 of them my darling Muscle-Man accepted (well.....) 'put up with' my being a fat arsed, lazy, whinging wife. He is aptly named Muscle Man as this guy spends more time at the gym than a fly on dog poo. He routinely drinks protein shakes and a vast array of muscle building, fat stripping, bicep bulging pills and potions. Believe it or not, he could even bench press me at my heaviest (surely that is worthy of a Guinness world record).

The quest to beat the bulge began 2 years ago when as trying on a dress for my younger sisters wedding I proclaimed that I was going to loose some weight before the big day, only to be scoffed at by the sales assistant with the statement "If I had a dollar for every time I heard that in this shop.....". Needless to say I was pissed off! I couldn't believe her rudeness, but mostly I couldn't handle the fact she was right. If I had a dollar for every time I have said that, I'd be just as rich, if not more so, than she would!

For anyone who has ever battled with a weight issue, you will know that it's not as simple as putting on a pair of joggers and stepping away from the fridge. For as long as I could recall I'd tried and failed to lose weight. I'd tried Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, bulimia, Lite N Easy, some illegal weight loss drugs smuggled into Oz from America - everything. Nothing had worked for me. I had the classic attitude of wanting a drastic change overnight. The idea that it might actually take time was equally as horrifying as the fact I'd allowed myself to become a whale in the first place. Add to the equation the fact I am an identical twin who looked NOTHING like her twin sister with my 10 chins, and her svelte, sexy self. Comparisons to "sexy-twin" (her new code name) became nothing short of daily. It was entirely common to be told that I was the "bigger" twin or that surely we couldn't be identical because I was *cough*, *splutter*, *gasp* BIGGER. I would gently remind people that the mars bar stuffed in my pocket and the one I'd just consumed were not genetic traits acquired in the womb!

Needless to say the battle was one that would require an army of emotional strength alongside physical and real lifestyle changes. On the 8th June 2006 I decided the time had come. Operation loose two butts began.

Reflecting on my weight loss journal on the 8th June I wrote this:

Goal weight: 75kgs

• I want to be a sexy Mum (maybe even a MILF),
• Look great pregnant (I looked like a hot air balloon with Jim),
• Loose weight for younger sisters wedding,
• Feel confident,
• Look good,
• Fit into clothes off any rack (especially the clothes made out of handkerchiefs in teeny-bopper shops),
• To be fit,
• For Muscle Man and Jim,
• and for myself.

At this point in time my measurements were as follows:

Waist: 92cms

Bust 97cms

Left Arm: 32cms

Right Arm: 31cms

Right Thigh: 63cms

Left Thigh: 63.5cms

Hips: 113cms

Left Shin: 38cm

Right Shin: 36.5cms

Fitness: Stirring the dinner with a wooden spoon leaves me breathless.

Reflection is a great motivator. I will spend some future entries reflecting on the changes, how they occurred and how I fare today. Until then, happy blogging (Jim and Bob are calling for me).

Face fat!

As wonderful as those pics are - the best way to see is the side by side changes, so whilst I am "photo-happy" here are the side by side comparisons:

Before: 88kgs After: 69.5kgs

The New and Improved ME #2

The new and improved me part 2.

OK, as you can see I am completely computer illiterate and posting lay-outs is not my speciality! I'll work on this, I promise!

Now, back to the hard yards, the lard is coming off:

8kgs down

September 2006 - one of my favourite things - Vodka (oh and the first time ever I wore a sexy dress - 10 kgs down)

17 kgs down - November 2006 - another rare moment in a dress - and a sleeveless tee!!

And me today - 18.5 or there abouts gone :)

The New and Improved Me!

Well, what good is a FAT to FAB testament if you don't share before and after pics!

This is a little scary as for the most part I haven't even come to terms with how hideous I used to look, let alone splashing it across the www.

None the less, who will believe me unless I share the gruesome evidence :)

Before: Weighing roughly 88kgs (at last weigh in - I suspect it got higher)

2005




















At Disney World, Orlando 2004
Who is chip and who is Dale?



















2004




















2006 - 1 year after the birth of my son and I weighed in heavier than when 9 months pregnant with him.





















Ironically my t-shirt reads "I can eat whatever I want" (What the HECK was I thinking?). Anyway, operation blast the flab had begun and I had lost roughly 8kgs by this point.