From Fat to Fabulous!

Labour Pains

2010-07-11T00:12:00.000-07:00

OK, first and foremost - I am not pregnant! Now that that is out of the way, onto the topic.

Given July is the month of sobriety and attempts to lose the weight that's recently found me, I have decided to up the anti with my workouts. I realise I could also stop upping my food intake, but my motto has always been 'one change at a time' (Gee, no wonder the weight found me - I was clearly to busy stuffing my face to hide from it!).

So, in the name of all that is 'upping-the-anti', last week I decided to mix up my workout routine slightly and attend my local gymnasiums I.C.E class. I.C.E stands for "Indoor Cycling Experience", but should actually be an acronym for "Imminent Cardial Infarction Experience (awaits)".

I loathe spin classes. Correction - I absolutely, unequivocally, irrefutably DISDAIN them. I knew this before I decided to participate in this class and yet somehow, I had lulled myself into a false sense of security thinking that perhaps every other time I've attended spin and hated it, I was either imagining the depth of hatred I felt, or perhaps doing something wrong. (I blame Romy and Michelle's Highschool Reunion for leading me to believe they were an easy class, whose mandatory footwear was a pair of high-heeled pumps fresh from the 90's, teamed with a sequined sports bra).

When Sexy Twin and I attended Boot Camp (aka: Golden Door Health Retreat) in the Hunter Valley in January, we made the same mistake of participating in a spin class only to be utterly tortured by our PT. As it turned out he was training for the Tour de France and using our spin class as his own personal training session! Last weeks I.C.E class turned out to be no exception.

In the midst of a 12 minute straight hill climb I didn't know whether to swear, throw-up, slap the instructor, cry, commence cardial infarction, or F: all of the above. My glasses fogged up from the sweat and the steam I generated, and my ample derriere perched upon a seat no bigger than a hairbrush, reminded me of it's ampleness the entire ride. The funny thing was once the class was over the pain all but dissipated and a strange sense of achievement washed over me.

Later as I whinged to Muscle Man about my bruised posterior, I quipped that to me a spin class is like the early stages of labour. The minute it begins you are reminded how shockingly bad it is. You recall with sudden clarity the agony you will feel, and the marathon that's ahead. You remember that relief only comes with the scream for "MORE DRUGS", or the end of the class. And yet when it's all finished and the experience has passed you by, you wonder how bad it really was...and somehow decide you might even do it all again!

Dry July - Weekend 1 down, 3 to go.

2010-07-05T05:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I did it, I survived the first weekend of my month long fling with sobriety. Despite a few fleeting moments where I thought I might crack, and wondered what on earth I had gotten myself into, I can proudly say I stuck to my guns (read: mineral water) and made it over the first hurdle. Weekend number 1 of 4.

I can't deny that having a head cold at present may have made the task slightly easier. However, I also entertained the thought that being sick might be my body's way of enacting revenge for taking away a life-source, wine and therefore, I should return it immediately. Hand on my heart I swear I didn't though.

I officially put down my 'drinking hand' (Dry July's slogan), on Wednesday the 30th June. I have an event not-to-be-missed on the 31'st July, for which my honorary mother-in-law has purchased me a Golden Ticket (night off sobriety) for a farewell cocktail party she is hosting. I figure I'll be a cheap addition to her soiree with one cocktail almost guaranteed to have me tiddly (and the life of the party) after my month off. Surely it's like virginity you know, 12 months of abstinence and some would call you a virgin again, by this logic a month off the wine should make me a teenage girl again.

Aside from the amazingly good cause all funds raised go to, the nuts and bolts of the operation is also my desire to lose the weight I have gained since commencing uni. I weighed myself on Friday, 02nd July and am ashamed, embarrassed and horrified to report that my weight has increased by 7...yes, you read that correctly, 7 kilos! *insert crying (make that howling) emoticon here*.

After crying, swearing, kicking, pleading, and bribing the Wii fit scales to check again, only to be repeatedly appalled, I have decided to accept the cruel fate my food choices have led me to, and knuckle down. So July will not only be the month of sobriety, but also the month of "Get-your-arse-into-gear-and-lose-the-weight month".

Muscle Man is of course fabulous when it comes to all things Muscle, so he has taken on the challenge of motivating me to put down the chocolate and pick up the weights instead. So far he needs a little improvement as he has seemingly failed to notice my oral fixation aka: need to eat anything in-sight to detract from the shiny new set of wine glasses Sexy Twin bought me last week just waiting to be christened. A lovely gesture, or a cruel taunt- you be the judge.

On that note, either the pantry or my bed is calling, so wish me luck as I attempt to bypass one to get to the other ;o)

Alfie xx

Dry July

2010-06-23T20:05:00.000-07:00

I've taken the leap - it's not even a step - it's a full blown throw-myself-of-a-cliff-and-hope-for-the-best-leap.

What could be so dramatic I hear you ask, well, wait for it...I am participating in "Dry July". A fairly recent initiative that encourages participants to lay off the booze for the entire month of July and raise funds for adults living with cancer. I'm nervous, excited, anxious, and craving wine all at the same time. In other words, off to a rip-roaring start.

In truth, and much to my parents horror, with the exception of pregnancy I haven't had more than a week off alcohol since College. Now I am not talking full-blown binging night after night, week after week, but even the odd glass of wine with dinner has been a regular feature in my life. I love wine, I love food that goes with wine, I love learning about wine. Some of my favourite holidays have included wine tastings and jaunts around some of Australia's best wine regions. You get the picture. Needless to say I am slightly anxious about 31 days without wine featuring in my life.

Why am I doing this then? I've been asking myself the same question. There are a few reasons though. The main one being that my Nan died of cancer a number of years ago and was treated at the hospital where all my fundraising would go, this alone seemed like a good enough reason to let my wine glass gather some dust and enjoy a well earned rest, the other main reason is of course health and weight related.

Muscle Man, Sexy Twin and others, have heard me banging on and on about my recent weight gain and have remained tight lipped about the reasons why (and so they bloody should!). But in my heart of hearts I know the reason I am currently sporting an extra bum cheek and back fat to match, is that I've increased my alcohol intake since commencing uni, and in turn increased my Camembert, humus, Havarti, and salami intake also. Tut Tut. Time to knuckle down, raise some money for a fantastic cause and lose the love handles at the same time.

I'll blog throughout the month of July, if nothing else I'll need to stave off the shakes and cold sweats, so stay tuned and wish me luck.

Alfie x

Thinking Healthy

2010-05-28T23:46:00.000-07:00

A few posts ago I mentioned that I wanted to focus more on my mental health and start thinking positively about myself, and my body image. I know that for many of us, learning to love ourselves and feel confident in our skin, warts and all, is more than half the challenge when it comes to weight loss. I have personally spent the last 12-18 months trying to overcome the challenges of still seeing myself as 'the fat girl', or as I have admitted before, comparing myself to Sexy Twin. It's been a really tough slog at times and in the spirit of being honest, I can't deny that there have been numerous occasions where I should have re-read my blog posts and heeded my own advice.

In my darkest times I would have to refrain from writing in lipstick on my bedroom mirror "You are FAT". I was certainly repeating that message in my head on a daily, and at times hourly basis. When I think about that retrospectively and with a currently positive attitude, it breaks my heart. How could I treat myself like that?

In January this year, Sexy Twin and I embarked on a week of 'boot camp' at the Hunter Valley's Elysia, Golden Door health retreat. Whilst there we devoted blood, sweat, tears and almost my first-born (anything to avoid a spin class, right!), to the program. During one of the 'lighter' sessions, we attended a group meditation class; It was one of the first times I have meditated and I can't deny I walked in with the attitude of 'What's this hippy-hoo-ha'. I later walked back out with a tear in my eye and the realisation that the way I treat myself, would NEVER EVER be acceptable treatment of my friends, my family, or my children. I was overcome when I subconsciouslyy considered the thought that if I ever have a daughter, I am setting the worst possible example of a healthy mind, body, and soul I possibly could (cue tears).

I can't truthfully say I was 'healed' that day from the demons of self-doubt and dislike. I wasn't, and sadly I am not sure I ever will be 100% free from some of the thoughts and insecurities that plague me at times. Sadly, I don't really have the answers either, I have some insight into what things I need to change, and how I can actively work to manage the thoughts that assail me at times, but I wouldn't for one second claim to be an expert in this field and provide guidance or advice.

As some may recall, I was seeing a psychologist for a period last year, and whilst that did assist me at the time, I have come to recognise the fact that low self-esteem is a little like a bad habit. You have to change the behaviour to release the habit. So, with that in mind, and taking baby-steps, I have decided this week's goal is to make a very deliberate decision to wake up each day, look in my mirror and repeat this sentence "I am fit, I am strong, I am healthy". What's yours?

Do you label your food?

2010-05-19T00:47:00.000-07:00

Aside from the obvious food packing labels, I am wondering how many people, aside from myself, label food as either "good" or "bad".

Over the past week in an effort to change my thinking from, "My arse looks like a snow plough", or "The new tyres on the car could come from my waist", I have been trying to recognise how completely destructive this way of thinking is, and change it. I've also been trying to identify what things trigger my moods and therefore, my 'self-talk'. Food as I have come to realise, is certainly something that can lead to thoughts and feelings regarding the size of my butt.

I have known for some time (and have perhaps been unwilling to admit), that I have an unhealthy relationship with food. Don't get me wrong, I love food; I love how it smells when I am cooking, I love how it tastes when I am eating it, I love mixing it with wine, and trying new flavours and spices in my cooking. I love how food looks -especially if it contains blue veins or double-cream mould. I love how food brings my family together, and how weekly we share good laughs, memories, and stories over food. What I don't love is how I feel after eating certain foods.

If you are anything like me, it is possible you may have an "all" or "nothing" mentality. For me this means that like so many things in my life, I lack balance when it comes to food. All to often I have set out to eat one chocolate biscuit and have shamefully stopped somewhere around the fifth. The thing is, more often that not I only enjoyed the first one or two, and after that I was purely binging out of a sense of guilt, and a lack of control.

This I have decided is possibly because I view certain foods as "good" and "bad". Good foods I eat guilt free - however, I probably eat larger serves of these foods than I actually need to due to my belief they are good. Whereas so called bad foods I mostly try and avoid, and perhaps it is for this reason that when I do eat them I tend to binge on them. I have the warped, and rather sad view that "Oh well, Alfie, you have let yourself down now, may as well eat the entire packet and go for broke with the chips aswell".

This week I have decided that in order to get myself back to my 'most comfortable and happy weight' I am going to focus on some realistic, and achievable, goals. With my all-or-nothing way of thinking there tends to come the desire to see significant changes overnight (oh I wish), yet I know logically this is not possible, and is not a healthy way of thinking.

My goal for this week is to think about food as 'neutral'. Not good or bad, but simply food. Granted we all recognise some foods are going to be more nutritionally sound than others, but we also know that the key to a healthy lifestyle is moderation. This week I am aiming to make a few small changes in the way I think about food.

My motto for this week is: 'Yes, I can eat this if I want to, but is it what I really want?" If my answer is yes, than great I am going to eat it an enjoy it. If however I am just eating it because it's available, I am bored, irritable, emotional - whatever, then perhaps that is the time to stop and think about my actions.

Till next time, Alfie x

* I recommend getting your hands on a copy of 'If Not Dieting, Then What" By Dr Rick Kausman if, like me, you have these attitudes towards food.

It's Just One Big Merry-go-round!

2010-05-03T18:05:00.000-07:00

Weight loss that is. Don't ya think?

I've been on this ride for over 3 years now and some days it feels like I can't for the life of me get off! In part this might have to do with the ideas I had established when I first started losing weight, and changing my lifestyle. I inadvertently thought once the 'goal weight' was reached, and both clothes and scales reflected the size I wished to be, I'd be able to step off the merry-go-round and resume normal programming. I was wrong.

For anyone who has struggled with his or her weight, and like me continues to, I'm beginning to wonder if the sad reality is that we are on this ride for life. Perhaps it is like an addiction to drugs, cigarettes, or alcohol - even when you are no longer riddled with the addiction, you still have to fight the urges to resist the thing/s you know provided comfort, or enjoyment, whilst you were addicted to them. For me this could be food – and well if I am being honest – laziness.

By my own admission I don't want to spend the rest of my life restricting my food intake, watching my calories, and keeping food diaries. I don't want to spend the rest of my life exercising to chase my tail, to burn off last night's takeaway indulgence, or to counteract the empty calories I plan to drink courtesy of my “TGIF”* wine(s).

All that said; I am frustratingly aware that my body, for whatever reason, is encumbered with a slow metabolism. I maintain that the sheer sight of certain fat-addled-foods manage to osmosis themselves onto my waist, butt and thighs without so much as sampling the food. It’s simply not fair!

I’ve considered having blood tests to see if I have a hormonal imbalance which might be rectified with the assistance of a naturopathic tincture or the like, but then I can’t deny the motivation for this path would also be to find a ‘quick fix’. I’ve done the hard yards, I’ve sweated more than my current body weight, I’ve ran more than I walked in the preceding years to my weight loss quest, and I’ve worn through more gym shoes than I ever dreamed possible. I’m done. I’m sick of this! I want to throw in the towel and retire to a groove in my couch; all my favourite foods lined up in front of me, and eat until my hearts content - or my button pops, whichever comes first.

Moments into my fantasy and reality smacks me in the face – I‘m not fitting into my jeans thanks to my aforementioned attempt at abandoning a healthy lifestyle in favour of a reaching broom (or rag on a stick)* and I’m reminded that I DON’T have to be on ‘diet’. I’m no longer in the ‘overweight’ range and my mindset needs to shift from constantly thinking I am exercising and eating to lose weight, to I exercise and eat well to live the best life I can.

If 3 years ago I’d known the real battle was not going to be shedding the kilos, but rather shedding the ingrained mindset that comes from having been overweight, and addicted to food, and laziness, I might have thrown in the towel right then! I think with my renewed vigor for blogging, I should focus on sharing the journey to achieve a healthy mind, to match the healthy body! Till next time,

Alfie ox

* TGIF - "Thank God it's Friday!"
* See pic below - warning, contains graphic content :p

A change is as good as...

2010-04-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

Hello faithful followers (whoever is left after my very long departure that is),

Thank you for the messages regarding my whereabouts, and asking me to return to the land of blogging. I have been meaning to for quite some time, and finally after remembering my password and setting my account back up, I am here! My "Thank you" and "Apologies" are all rolled into one, I assure you.

So much has happened over the last 9 months (sheesh, I've been slack!). The most significant change is that I have abandoned paid employment for full-time university study! I am studying a Bachelor of Writing, and well, the hopes, dreams and all that jazz, are to one day be a 'paid' writer (!).

So far I am loving student life although I can honestly say my waist line is not! I've found myself so busy, and at times stressed, that I have either neglected to eat at all, or have consumed everything edible within the confines of my house! As a result, in the last 12 weeks I have gained roughly 5 kilos :'( Ahhh, what can you do though, it's not the end of the World right, just the end of my 'skinny jean' dreams...for now.

The reality is, I know how to lose weight, eat well, move more etc etc but must confess, I'm a little tired of it. I have been losing weight, maintaining weight-loss, or dreaming of body issues for 3 years now and I think the first semester of uni has felt like a much needed sabbatical! Now to figure out how to have a sabbatical without the weight gain?! Probably not drinking like a uni student would help...

So what else has been neglected in my departure from blogging: Well, Sexy Twin is still sexy, Muscle Man is still muscular, Jim and Bob are fabulous and are now 5 and 2.5 which is hard to believe. I absolutely still run (just not as often this past 3 months), and well heck, let's face it - I am still trying to be a "Fit and Fab Mama!", oh and I am now a brunette. 1

Stay tuned (if you can be bothered) to see how long it takes me to lose my extra love handle(s), and or, blog again! Hopefully the blogs come faster than the weight gain did!

Alfie x
1: Bet that snippet of info made your day, huh!

False Advertising

2009-08-03T02:26:00.001-07:00

"Do you want fries with that"

Tonight as I was on the treadmill, cursing every blasted step, and trying to distract myself from the agony that was my run by watching Neighbours (honestly I don't know which was worse, the run or the soapy) an advertisement came on TV for Donut King.

Imagine four waif-thin, blond, attractive girls wearing nothing but gold hot pants (enough said) and a pink singlet with "DK" planted squarely in the centre of perky bosoms (Yes, of this detail I am jealous). Now visualise these size 8, never-eaten-a-donut-in-our-life girls doing something I can only liken to synchronised swimming - on land - with a donut in hand, floral shower cap atop their perfect, skinny heads and I imagine (iPod was on) fluffy, feel-good music in the background.

"PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT REALITY"

All I generally feel when I indulge in anything from Donut King is regret. I've certainly never morphed into Tara Reid (actually...thank god) and my dancing skills and athletic prowess do not suddenly become Olympic-worthy as I taste the last morsel of my cinnamon dipped fat.

Alas, this is not the only advertisement of this nature. McDonald's, Coca Cola, Hungry Jacks, Red Rooster - you name it - they all do it.

McDonald's latest campaign resting heavily on the idea that McDonald's equals a good family time. Granted some of my own childhood memories contain family outings to McD's but I personally think this has more to do with being 1 of six children in a single-income family than a parental desire to bond over a Big Mac.

Coca-Cola another classic example - almost every Coke advert displays bikini clad women frolicking in the waves on a summer's day, sun glistening off the water and into the twinkling eye of the nearest Afro-haired, young lad whose life is about to change thanks to a fizzy drink so potent it could clean your driveway!

Of course to be fair, I get it. Sex sells. Sexy sells. Rich marketing executives of adverts such as these, are undoubtedly sitting in their penthouses paying there personal chefs and trainers, using the money spent from social misconception that donuts will inspire synchronised swimming, McDonald's will bring a family closer together, and Coke will solidify your love life - or at least guarantee a fun day at the beach.

But, let's be real about this for 5 minutes and imagine this was the advertisement. I wonder what would sell then?

And simply because you can't beat the Japanese hilarity of this advert - which would actually succeed in turning me off also!

Measures of success

2009-06-30T02:33:00.001-07:00

If you are anything like me, the chances are you have possibly set your weight loss goals on a specific number. Your ideal weight.

For years now I've been hung up on this elusive number. The weight I envision myself in my wildest dreams (these dreams also include a long and sexy persuit (and trist) with Wentworth Miller where I am the envy of woman worldwide). The reality is of course that the number I'd previously set my sights on is the digit I weighed at the tender age of 10! Completely unrealistic, especially if I want to be more than a skeleton with a tent of skin!

One thing I've started realising and actually put more stock in of late is other tangible measures of success. How do I feel? How do my clothes look and fit? Do I have muscles other than the one I flap about daily in my mouth? Do I have some general tone where a muscle should be? What are my measurements? How fit have I become?

Since taking these factors into consideration I have become accutely aware of the many and varied ways in which I can feel great about myself and see changes in my body.

One tiny (ironic at a Weight Watchers meeting) flaw I have found with Weight Watchers is the value they place in stepping on those blasted scales each week. I understand of course that at some of their meetings there are simply to many 'watchers' to faciliate anything other than a quick date with the scales and a number presented to you in your pocket book. Nonetheless, I am all to aware that the faces of my fellow weighers reflect the success or failure they feel they have had based solely on the digits now presented to them in smudged black pen!

It is entirely possible, and often likely, that weight-loss success will not be reflected with an actual body mass loss. Sometimes it's possible to lose size around your mid-section, or gain a lovely toned calf (maybe even 2) without seeing that reflected on the scales.

Muscle Man has the right idea in my opinion. He determines his success based on how much of the sun he can block out when he flexes his bicep! I now try and measure my success based on the size of my muffin top - when it's not billowing out of my pants like a sail on a yacht I know I am on track!

I thought it a timely reminder to myself (and possibly my readers) to review my own measurements in this regard:

16 December 2007: June 2009

Waist: 90cm ----------------------> 79cm

Hips: 100.5cm ----------------------> 88cm

Left Arm: 34cm ---------------------> 28cm

Right Arm: 34cm --------------------> 27cm

Left Thigh: 57cm --------------------> 53cm

Right Thigh: 58cm -------------------> 52cm

Right Shin: 38cm --------------------> 33cm

Left Shin: 37cm ---------------------> 34cm

This is a total loss of 54.5cm (and just think, if I included my boobs it would be around the 80 mark!).

Being a numbers gal I'm pretty happy glowing over my 54cm alongside my 20 kilo one ;o)

** The towel rack really is a lovely helper! I often lightly rest my arm on mine if I am after a loss of 500 grams in the space of 20 seconds ;o)

Slow and Steady...

2009-06-19T16:28:00.000-07:00

...wins the race!

I've surprised myself with this little fable and wait for it - I actually do believe it!

Three years ago I would have scoffed at this common little saying and defended my fervent belief it was something we say to losers to make them feel better about themselves - and well, their complete lack of speed. I mean c'mon let's face it, the rabbit only lost because he was arrogant and stopped for something to eat (sound familiar?) giving the turtle the opportunity to pass!

However, now days in my 'successful-loser' frame of mind, I have realised the benefits of losing weight slowly and steadily.

I am currently in my 6th week of Weight Watchers and have lost a grand total of 3.8kgs, which also equates to a 5% body fat percentage loss! HOWZAT! (How very 'occa' of me).

Years ago I would have thrown the towel in by now disgusted at my lack of success, based on my own unrealistic goal setting. I was the token Biggest-Loser-watcher who had aspiration's of losing 4 kilos per week and reaching my 20 kilogram weight loss goals within a couple of months. No wonder I quit! I was never before prepared to invest the TIME (or sweat) the task required! After a couple of weeks, I'd be sitting back on my laurels and indulging in my usual lazy ways, cursing my body and it's inability to lose weight. I was never prepared to curse the real source behind my failings - MY inability to put the food down and get off the couch.

Here I am 3 years later and I am still aspiring to get to goal. You know what though, that's A-OK with me! My own experiences have demonstrated to me that realistic weight losses, such as 300 grams per week, are the kind which I can easily maintain and keep off! The fleeting times where I've lost in excess of a kilo are generally the weeks where I congratulate myself with a box of Cadbury Roses (You ought to be congratulated and all that jazz - Oh wait, that catchy little tune was for a butter advert right? Heh, chocolate/butter same consequence) and suffer the following week.

I am currently attending WW's meetings with baby sis, Angel, and some good friends. It's fantastic to have the support network each week. We are like a little bunch of 'weight-loss groupies' all getting together each Wednesday night to cheer each other on with our successes and offering a shoulder (or a carrot stick) for our gains. However, one thing which I have noticed as a distinct difference is that I joyfully-leap off the scales after losing 200 grams feeling elated and letting off a few victory-air punches as I go (after-all, I'm still having my wine with dinner, my treats on occasion and am NOT counting food points as WW's suggest you do). My friends however view a number less then a kilo as a possible failing on their behalf.

It's not their fault of course - socially we are so geared to expect weight loss success to happen instantly. We are so inundated with 'quick fixes' and alternatives to genuine hard-work and self-control that we have come to expect nothing less then success served up in large numbers (like our portion sizes) and instant results. I want to shake them all and remind them how fantastic they are doing - a loss is a loss after all, and in this particular instant I DO believe, in fact I know, that slow and steady does win the weight-loss race!

Australia the Obese Nation. Which statistic are you?

2009-06-09T22:24:00.000-07:00

Having been to the U.S. (think Chip & Dale Disneyland photo) I find it hard to fathom how Australia can even fit (pun intended) into the same category of obesity as America does. This is after all America we are talking about. The land of cheese and phillysteaks!

One of my first memories of Disneyland was walking through the golden arches (oh wait, that's McDonald's) and seeing one of the elaborately-dressed-cartoon-like street sellers hoisting a roast turkey leg above their head and insisting fascinated passers by (read me) "Try the giant leg". The term 'giant leg' possibly still proving an understatement. These legs were no ordinary drumstick. These were the stuff pirates are made of!

How do we possibly compare to this? In Australia you're lucky if your Kentucky Fried Chicken drumstick fits into the palm of your hand, let alone being size-equivalent to the length of your own thigh (the irony of course being KFC is American). Australia also does not pride itself on the "Big-Gulp" (as seen below). So where have we gone wrong?

Sadly though, big-gulps and Turkey legs aside Australia is up there in the 'obese nations' category. A report in the Parliament of Australia Parliamentary library states:

Reports of an ‘obesity epidemic’ appear with increasing frequency and rising concern in Australia. Particular attention is given to reports of the accelerating rate of obesity among Australian children. Overweight and obesity in Australia

In the words of Helen Lovejoy "DEAR GOD WON'T SOMEBODY THINK OF THE CHILDREN!!" (Muscle Man will be very proud of my Simpson's reference!).

A recent survey conducted by the Australian Bureau of Statistics found that 68% of adult men and 55% of adult women were overweight or obese. For children, there was a significant increase in the proportion who are obese from 5.2% in 1995 to 7.8% in 2007/8. The proportion of boys who were obese more than doubled from 4.5% to 9.7% while girls remained unchanged at 5.8%. ABS Health Study

Even more concerning was a recent article printed in the latest edition of Weight Watchers magazine which claims that by 2020, 65% of all Australian children will be overweight or obese. Weight Watchers Online

So with statistics that indicate less Aussie men and women are in a healthy weight range then those who are not, which statistic are you?

For me, I see it as a sad state of affairs regarding the health of our nation that I should pride myself on being in the statistic serving as the minority. Alas, it would seem that with a statistic as low as 45% I should feel proud!

To some extent one could possibly argue that 'weight' does not always accurately reflect health. In this vein I am almost certain if we took a percentage of "healthy-weight-rangers" and looked at their health beyond the digit afforded to them on the scale, we would find that a portion of them were in fact less-healthy than those tipping the scale at the "overweight end". However when it comes down to it, healthy or not, the figures in relation to obesity are startling.

So what can we do?

Well, if I had all the answers I'd be rich and therefore, I imagine I'd be on a holiday in Disneyland at present with Muscle Man, Jim, Bob and a turkey leg. Sadly though the only immediate answers I have is that as a parent, and a person myself, it needs to start at home and it needs to start with SELF. It also needs to start with an honest question, which statistic are you?

I want my cake, damnit!

2009-05-27T00:29:00.000-07:00

Don't you just hate the age old saying "You can't have your cake and eat it too". Or how about another pearler "Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels". Yeah right! Obviously the creator of that saying hasn't tried a creme brulee ever in their life. Heck, I've even eaten things more delicious than my skinniest-ever-day (birth) during college. Granted a certain kind of grass might have had something to do with that but none the less the point is these sayings SUCK!

Why am I so adverse to these throw away comments now you may wonder? Well it's simple: tonight is "weigh in day" at my "I'm a food addict anonymous" meeting and I suspect that rather than loosing weight this week, I have actually gained some!

I was feeling a little 'blow-fish' like yesterday but thought it was nothing that a good ol' fart and a good nights sleep couldn't fix. Wrong. Today is no better and I both farted and slept well. Doh!

So why the weight gain this week? Well I suspect the reason is because I wanted, and did eat my cake.

I know. I know. How many times have I said that I need to eat less and move more blah blah blah. The last two weeks I was pretty good at taking my own advice on board and even this week I wasn't too bad, but at some point (Saturday night: bottle of red wine) I let my guard down and indulged my taste buds. Naturally the following morning I required a hot breakfast to soak up the wine (it was either that or a hair of the dog). Oh, and lest we forget the 6-year-long tradition of Desperate Housewives night with Sexy Twin and cheese. Yep, that may not have helped either. Talk about confessions of a food-aholic!

So tonight I am preparing myself for my confessional. Inevitably it will ensue as follows:

"Hi I'm Alfie and I'm addicted to food"

Everyone in the room nods somberly as they say "Hi Alfie"

Me: "This week I ate my weight in bacon, I dreamt my pillow was a giant marshmallow and when I woke up I was eating my sheet. The following day I spent time at my desk dreaming of a custard filled canolli I saw at the Cafe downstairs which then led to thoughts of Italian food. Lashings of pasta, profiteroles and LARGE servings with a Nonna standing over me forcing me to "eat, eat something". Somehow these thoughts then turned to chips - they always do - and I found myself stroking the chip machine and whispering sweet nothings in the display window".

Hmm, I think tonight I'll just use my "No weigh" pass!

1.9 kilos down!

2009-05-20T18:04:00.000-07:00

Hooray!!

For some time now I've been whinging about those token last 5 kilos that I'd LOVE to lose but really haven't been prepared to give anything up for and as many of you would know, I'm not really a 'diet-kinda-gal'. By admission I have numerous vices, which let's face it - enhance my quality of life. Wine, chocolate, eating out with friends, did I mention wine (only in EVERY SINGLE blog Alfie).

It was becoming a regular occurrence for Muscle Man I to have a conversation similar to this;

Alfie: "Hey Muscle Man, WHY can't I lose 5 kilos?"

Muscle Man: "Do you think the bottle of wine in one hand and the bag of chips in the other might have anything to do with it?"

Alfie: "HOW DARE YOU, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!!!!"

Poor guy.

Thing is though, he was of course partly right. In the last few months (heck, let's say since the silly season otherwise known as Christmas) I have been eating rich and indulgent foods teamed with a beverage of some kind on a weekly, if not daily basis. I live a fairly social life so it's not uncommon to catch up with girlfriends or Sexy Twin on a regular basis, often accompanied by my old friends Camembert, brie, Havarti, Salami and Semillon Sauvignon. Faithful as these friends may be, they really were doing nothing positive for my hips (my lips on the other hand...).

So, what have I done to lose 1.9 kgs you may ask? Well, given my exercise addiction is alive and well (especially since the newest addition to the family arrived....new treadmill) it really comes down to one thing. Eat less (cheese) move more (butt).

I must admit that I am quite capable of doing this on my own, and have done so in the past, but presently I have an amazingly beautiful baby sister who has recently given birth to my first nephew :) # 1 nephew is only 9 weeks old and sadly Angel (baby sisters pseudo name) is on the 'self-beration band wagon'. So, for moral support (and a touch of motivation) I am accompanying her to our local Weight Watchers meetings.

I must admit I was never really a fan of weight watchers (Muscle Man and I even have a code name for it such was our dislike) but in theory the principle behind it is quite good and as far as affordability goes, well it does cater to the masses here.

So, 2 weeks in and I am 1.9kgs down - GO ME!!!

The only down-side with WW's is that I'm the token 'watcher' who hoards her spare points for Friday night's dates with old friends! Let's face it - some habits never die!

The good ol' before and after pics!

2009-05-14T17:01:00.001-07:00

Cause let's face it, we all love em!

So, a close up of the one featured in the magazine for you and also my old trusty Chip and Dale at Disney Land! You can decide who is Chip and who is Dale ;o)

NB: First pic was PRE kids. 2nd was post Jim. 3rd was Muscle Man's and my 6th Wedding anniversary in March this year.

In Print!

2009-05-14T16:49:00.000-07:00

Well, it's hit the stands and in print!! I apologise for the quality, I don't have a scanner so a dodgy photo will have to suffice for now :o)

Health Smart Magazine - June/July 2009

Health Smart Challenge - final installment!

2009-05-12T21:53:00.000-07:00

Week 5 – Day 35 (Tuesday 24th February 2009):

Had a pretty good week this week. I exercised daily but really did have a better sense of balance. I jogged 4 times and walked twice. I also did some yoga at home using a DVD I purchased. I feel that I am getting better at taming my negative thoughts and even though they still come fast and furious at times, I am learning that it’s important to try and put some perspective on both the thoughts and the situation at hand.

I have found yoga has been a relaxing way to clear the mind. I’m hoping it is not a phase. It makes me feel clear in the head and it’s during these times I feel happy and healthy and better able to rationalise my negative thoughts.

I flipped through some old Health Smart mags today and found that having changed the style of magazine I read has also provided me with some clear mindedness. Previously I have read magazines, which focus primarily on weight loss and are filled with images of bodies I will and could never have. Reading articles about health, vitality and well being are much more soothing to my own soul. Today I re-read an article I had flagged some time back, from the June-July 2008 issue titled “Think Thin” learn the tricks. I’m really trying :o)

Week 6 – Day 40 (Monday 01st March 2009):

I’m getting very close to the end of this challenge and whilst I know it can take 6 weeks to break a habit, I believe this one may take me a little more time. Some days I feel like my goal of learning to really love myself is not attainable in this lifetime. The thought depresses me and rather than seeing it as motivation, or indeed, ammunition to change, I seem to let it beat me. I seem to allow myself to turn the thoughts around in my mind. Feel their negative affects, let them momentarily damage my soul and rob me of the beauty I should be able to see in my unique personality.

Perhaps though I have achieved more than I am giving myself credit for in this time frame, and indeed in the last few years. If I dissect my thoughts, break them down and rationalise them, I can deduce the following:

1: I have lost a significant amount of weight and maintained that loss for some time now.

2: I have changed my lifestyle and no longer lead anything that resembled the sedentary sloth-like one of the past.

3: I have learnt that the key to my success is action. I know that motivation is fleeting, but yet I have choice every day! 9 times out of ten I use that choice for good, and to my advantage.

4: I am setting a good example for my children. I feed my family nutritious and wholesome food and regularly display to them the benefit and need for physical activity.

5: I am TRYING to love myself and that in itself is a greater effort than I’ve made in recent times. I recognise my thoughts and feelings towards my body and subsequent body image are like a roller coaster – up and down from one day (or moment) to the next. I also recognise the real goal lies in learning to change that and taking the steps to do so – no matter how long the journey at hand.

Synopsis – Thursday 19th March

It’s been a few weeks since I ceased my journaling (no matter how infrequent) for the Health Smart Challenge. That said I felt the need to provide a final statement into my initial goals and the outcomes of these.

When I began the challenge I hadn’t really identified (despite suggestions to do so) the exact way in which I would go about reaching my goals. I looked at the entry form sent to me and initially I had thought I would aim to lose 5 kilos (my eternal quest). But then after thinking about it a little more, I decided that for me weight loss is actually only a very small piece of this journey that I have been on for what feels at times like forever.

I guess the thing is I know I CAN lose weight. I have proven that much to myself. What I feel like I haven’t been able to get a full handle on, is the self-esteem I have attached to my body image. Being a twin does play a bigger role in this than I have previously acknowledged, but once I did it almost became an overwhelming reality. Sexy Twin is thinner and always has been. Why then do I continue to put so much weight in my image by comparison to hers? I have taken away from this exercise the desire to let go of these issues and thoughts. We are different people. Period.

I’ve learnt a few more things over the past few weeks.

1: Body image is almost shamefully important to me. I feel shallow simply writing that – but there it is – in black and white. It’s not so much important to me in a ‘defines who other people are’ kind of way, but more that I have somehow allowed it to define me. I have unwittingly tied so much of myself and my self-belief, into the external aspects of who I am. I realise now I have done myself a great disservice in doing so. However, I have also learnt from this 6 week challenge that simply writing the positive things about myself (such as I did in week 3 and 6) demonstrated to me the many things about myself, which need not be connected to the number on the bathroom scales or the tag size of my slightly snug jeans.

2: I am not a failure if I do not run every day. Even as I write those words I want to believe them ALL the time, not just right now, yesterday and possibly tomorrow – but every day! I know from week 4 that when I placed words of affirmation on my bedroom mirror – it helped. I need to do this with my mindset daily. I need to replace the negative, self-criticising thoughts, with positive affirming thoughts that boost my self-esteem daily.

Until undertaking this challenge I had not placed anything affirming on my walls or mirrors. In fact in High school I did the opposite and wrote messages to myself telling myself I was fat and to stop eating in an effort to get thin. An action I can now see has had long-term negative affects on me. Never again will I record such negative and untrue thoughts. Instead I am going to continue to write affirming statements and read them with belief!

3: I am seeing a psychologist. After making the first phone call and being told I would need to wait for her annual leave to end, I thought that was the first and final step. However, in light of my changes and the recognition I WANT to change as well as need to, I phoned back and had my first of possibly many appointments in early March. I will continue down this path and feel that even if this is the most significant step this 6-week challenge presented to me, it was a worthwhile and strong step for me, a serial doubter, to take. I feel as though I have empowered myself, given myself permission to really deal with the negative thoughts and equip myself with further tools to love myself and change my mindset – for good!

4: I want to last but certainly not least, remind myself and also demonstrate the changes I HAVE made in terms of my weight loss. I must confess that whenever I look back on my ‘before & after’ pictures I wonder what on earth is wrong with me that I fail to see what I really do know others can – I have changed and if I continue on this path of mental well being and emotional self belief, In time I will really see what others do also. I am beautiful inside and out and I want to exude the confidence of someone who knows her contribution to the world around her is incredibly worthwhile and far from based on the size of my jeans! To me that is what real health is about, smart health. Embodying mind, spirit and body!

Taking the challenge part 3:

2009-05-07T05:27:00.000-07:00

Week 2 - Day 8 - 14 (Wednesday 28th January – Tuesday 3rd February 2009):

This week was not a good week for me :o( My period arrived and even as I write the following, I regret the thoughts forming in my mind – I hate myself during this time of the month. My hormones just rage. I feel bloated. I suffer from dry, acne prone skin and basically I am an ogre towards Muscle Man. The poor guy can almost sense when my period is on it’s way purely based on how I start to treat myself and in turn, him. I changed my clothes this morning a hundred times (3rd Feb), typically settling on the very first outfit I donned – what a bloody waste of time and energy all the in-between outfits were. Not to mention I now have a bedroom resembling a clothing clearance sale in Myers.

When I decided to start this challenge, I made a decision to myself that I wouldn’t lie. I decided that I would record the good, the bad and the ugly. This week was downright ugly. I must confess I spent a good 10 minutes in the shower yesterday crying over the stretch marks on my stomach, the wobble in my bottom when I run, the complete lack of tone in my upper thighs and perhaps most embarrassing, the lack of left breast (yep, just the left) as a result of nursing two children. After turning the water off and letting the last tear wash down the drain I made a decision. It’s time to see a psychologist. I simply cannot go through the rest of my life with this weight around my neck (or as I perceive it, my waist).

Week 3 - Day 16 (Thursday 5th February 2009)

Jogged today, ate really well. Wrote some affirming thoughts in my food journal, as follows;

Things I like about me:

1: My brain. I am a smart, articulate woman.
2: My ability to provide love and security to my children.
3: My commitment to my marriage
4: My loyalty. My friends and family love me for who I am and can always trust I’ll be there for them.
5: My body’s ability to nurture my children. From conception to birth and beyond.
6: My strength – I constantly underestimate my own strength. Both physical and emotional. I need to reflect on it more often.
7: My fitness – I AM fit! I CAN run, I CAN lift weights, I CAN reach goals!

Week 3 – Day 20 (Monday 9th February 2009):

Phoned to make an appointment with a psychologist today. She is on leave until the end of February. Simply making the phone call made me feel strong. Like I’d taken the first step in the right direction. A step for me. A real step towards long-term change.

I’ve also been keeping a food journal for the past week or so, I figure at very least it can serve as a reminder that I do make smart choices and should applaud myself for these choices. Choices I AM in control of. My food journal has also served as a diary also and I’ve taken to occasionally recording my thoughts, feelings and actions in addition to here.

Week 4 – Day 25 (Saturday 14th February 2009):

I’ve decided to place words of affirmation around my house – predominantly in the places I possibly need them the most – MIRRORS (oh, and by the fridge/pantry). So far so good!! I have found myself repeating these ‘mantras’ at work. I’m also reminding myself of my all time favourite mantra “Why put off till tomorrow, that which I can do today”.

Week 4 Day 28 (Tuesday 17th February 2009):

Sexy Twin came over today and looked like a million bucks! Damn her! Muscle Man sensing what I was obviously thinking told me after she had left that I look healthy and that health is more important than whether the latest fashion (i.e. skinny jeans) suits my figure. I made a concerted effort to listen to his words and remind myself of the journey I have travelled and the changes I have made.

I wish I didn’t feel this way about Sexy Twin. We share such a special bond and deep down I know that she doesn’t look at me and think the thoughts I do of myself. I also need to think about the impact I am having on our relationship. I am almost certain that she can sense my envy of her and yet, all it does is serve to put a wall between us.

My next challenge is to learn to value our differences, the things that make us unique. I need to let go of my perception that socially we are expected to be one in the same. I need to love her for who she is exactly as I expect her to feel towards me.

......

Taking the Challenge Part 2:

2009-04-25T17:33:00.000-07:00

Week 1 -Day 1 (Thursday 22nd January 2009):

Work was busy today, which meant my mind was busy also.

It is a daily occurrence for me to doubt myself or criticise my appearance and sadly to be
completely honest, today has been no exception. In my own defence, I made a deliberate decision to stop the negative thoughts and replace them with positive affirming thoughts. For example, around 3pm when the inevitable sugar craving overcame me and my thoughts turned
to the consequential cellulite on my thighs and my ever-present love handles, I decided not to
succumb to the feelings of failure that can overwhelm me in the presence of chocolate. Instead I reminded myself that a quick stretch and walk around the office would help get the blood flowing and distract my mind from the blasted fundraising chocolate every office has, and shouldn’t!
Success!! Instead of giving in to the Mars Bar with my name on it, I took the lift down the 7 floors to the ground level and then turned around and walked UP the 112 (I counted as I walked) stairs back to my desk. I felt positive about this step, no matter how small and insignificant it
may have seemed at the time.

Outcome of Day 1 – although at times the negativity made itself known, simply having prepared myself for it’s assault and pre-planning my subsequent attack, I really did feel better and a little more in control of these thoughts and my reaction to them.

So far so good!

Week 1 - Days 2-4 (Friday 23rd January – Sunday 25th January 2009):

I’m trying to remain committed to this task and am therefore loathe to record the excuses as to my lack of diarising the last few days. None the less, being a working mother of 2 young boys, a
social butterfly (Australia Day and nieces 2nd birthday fit into this) and a hopeless diary writer at the best of times, I must confess I am wondering if I will find this task harder than I gave myself initial credit for. Then again, I deemed myself a failure from the outset so even keeping record 3 times a week would be a success for me!

I have eaten well the last few days and been jogging each day. Running is my outlet. I hate
it and love it with equal passion. I hate it because it’s hard work; I love it because, who doesn’t find the end of hard work satisfying?

I’ve been an avid runner for 2 years now, only taking a short sabbatical for the last trimester of Bob's pregnancy. I must admit though that I have also recognised that in order to help clear my mind of negative thoughts I also need to find some balance in the pressure I place on myself to run every day of the week. Challenge # 2 – try some new exercises and allow myself resting times during the week. Jogging is not the be all end all, and does not need to be!

Week 1- Day 7 (Tuesday 27th January 2009) – 1 week down. 5 to go.

Today I went for a bike ride after work. Muscle Man and I loaded the boys into their bike
trailer and rode around the local lake. It felt great to have the fun and family time and all whilst setting an example of health and fitness to my sons. All in all week 1 of this challenge has given me a level of accountability to at very least, try and do what I say/challenge myself to do.

I have still to some degree been allowing negative self-talk to occasionally frame my thoughts, but I must admit that knowing I will come home to write about it is like a gentle reminder to change the thought and transform it into something wholesome.

Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought?!

Taking the Challenge!

2009-04-22T16:46:00.000-07:00

At the start of the year I undertook to participate in the Readers Digest Health Smart Magazine, Health Smart Challenge (try saying that 6 times over and fast!).

The idea of the challenge being to take a health related issue, i.e quit smoking, lose some weight, give up caffeine (NO WAY) and embark on the challenge for a period of 6 weeks. During the 6 weeks entrants were required to journal some of their experiences and essentially write about our outcome at the end of the 6 weeks. How we found the challenge, the strengths, weaknesses, results and so forth.

Well, I decided that my personal challenge would be surrounding "mental health" and focus specifically on what was, and has been, my biggest health challenge for some time now. Body Image.

Much to my absolute shock, I WON!! And trust me, I was shocked. I can list the things I have won in my life on 1 hand. A paper back book when I was 10 called "Ip-dip-sky-Blue' (Yep, it was as good as the title ;o) ), and a $2 scratchie. Oh, I can also add the one occasion I won a meat tray at the local club's raffle!

To win this competition is the creme De Le creme! I won it for being me! I'm not even going to try and filter the arrogance that comment exudes! I did. There was no luck, no lack of entrants, and no bribing the judges (I've never done that with success by the way). I won for honestly sharing my struggles, thoughts, emotions and feelings. YAY ME!

Next months magazine will have an excerpt from my entry but I also wanted to share my entry on here, in full, for anyone who may be struggling with body image as I did/have/do.

It's quite long, so I shall include it in installments :) Enjoy.

My Health Smart Challenge
Start: Wednesday 21st January 2009
OK, so I’ve decided to take part in the ‘Health Smart’ challenge. I must admit I hadn’t given the idea much thought when I sent an email requesting an entry form. All I know is I quite like the Health Smart magazine, and heck, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that the idea of a week at a health spa is so incredibly appealing right now.
So, where do I begin? Well perhaps I should start this online diary (if I can call it that) with a little about myself and perhaps what my goals are during this next 6 or so weeks.
My name is ALFIE, I am a 26 year old mother of two boys, JIM who is 4 and BOB who is 1. I have been married (mostly happily) to MUSCLE MAN for 6 years in March and like most Canberran’s I am a dutiful Public Servant. I am also a self-confessed weight loss junky and the bearer of what can only be called ‘low self-esteem’. The frustration with this is that I have over the past 2.5 yrs lost and maintained a weight loss of 20+ kilos. I have kept an online blog of my achievements (fitandfabmamma@blogspot.com ) and tried as honestly as possible to share and learn from my own experiences in relation to weight loss and body image. More recently (from around December) I’ve felt myself sliding backwards in terms of my own body image and what I call my ‘self-talk’.
I have without doubt changed my lifestyle considerably and yet I simply cannot deny the fact that my mind and I guess my ‘minds-eye’, have not changed to the extent I would like. Rather, I am for the most part trapped seeing myself as the ‘fat-girl’ I was. I must confess there is also another facet to these feelings – I am an identical twin. Therein lies what I would personally deem to be the most significant issue for me. The term ‘identical’ is almost redundant in the case of my twin and I. You see, she is and always has been the ‘skinny’ twin. A fact that I not only note with lingering resentment but that others have at times felt the need to highlight.
Growing up it was not uncommon for SEXY TWIN and I to hear comments to the effect of “So Alfie is the prettier of the two, and Sexy Twin is the slender one”. The word 'pretty' was completely lost on me and instead the only word my brain seemed to compute was the word ‘slender’. My logic at the time was to analyse the comment and assume the deliverer of this statement was calling me fat!
Without going into the finer details of my weight loss I’ll simply state that despite losing weight and gaining a level of fitness, I never in my wildest dreams believed was attainable, I am still in my mind stuck in the rut I was for the majority of my life, the fat mind.
So with that said, I guess my own desires for undertaking the Health Smart challenge are not specific to weight loss or fitness, but rather my own personal desire to change the way I see myself. The way I talk to myself. The constant stream of negative thoughts and commentary I play over and over again and the personal comparisons I make between my twin sister and I. My goal is to be healthy in mind, and body.
I cannot deny that even as I type this I am questioning my own commitment to the task. I sit here already berating myself for past failures and allowing the self doubt and negativity to make itself known, again! In this light my first challenge is to try and go one day (to start) without doubting my ability. Starting tomorrow I’m going to bolster my self-belief and challenge myself to be smart about my health, specifically my mental health. I am going to make an effort to compliment myself tomorrow and banish, or change, the negative thoughts which may creep
(more like seep) into my day.

(Names changed to fit the blog) :)

Stay tuned for more....

My Personal Best!

2009-04-15T02:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get so caught up in thinking of the things I want to achieve that I fail to stop and really think about the things I HAVE achieved. Know the feeling?

One of the pearls of wisdom my psychologist (at least I'm not saying my "Jenny" consultant these days) is helping to instill in me is the ability to think rationally about the things which I know to be true. Things such as the distance I have come with my weight loss, the changes I have made in my lifestyle (such as eating celery without firstly dipping it in a jar of Nutella), the example I am setting for my children. When I rationalise these things I can't help but give myself the credit I deserve!

Two years ago the only thing I was able to run was a tab at the local Pub. Oh OK, and a temperature. These days I can run a smooth 6 kilometres on any given day of the week and do so in what I consider a bloody good time!

Last night (as per most) I dashed home from work, ripped my clothes off and hurriedly slapped on my gym pants, singlet and iPod before racing out the door in order to catch the very last rays of light. Now in the past I've made no secret of the fact that sometimes when I run I feel like an elephant with every single ripple of skin, fat and muscle billowing around me - think parachute. Sometimes my body feels strong and I really believe my legs are magnificent pistons smoothly pushing through their paces and carrying me the distance - and then I hear myself breathing and wonder when I suddenly became asthmatic. And then sometimes I also have superb runs where everything works in sync - mind, body, breath. The works. Last night was that run!

Last night I ran 5.6 kilometres in 23 minutes.

I realise of course that this is never going to win me a place on the Olympic sprinting team. In fact it's unlikely I would even qualify for a Little Athletics carnival, but heck as far as I am concerned I am Marion Jones in my own backyard (OK, minus the drug scandal).

Roughly 2 years ago the exact track I ran last night in 23 minutes took me 45! When I first started jogging this track I had snails glide past me at a faster pace. From the outset it would have looked like I was running away from something rather than towards it, and it would have sounded as though I was the big bad wolf attempting to blow a house of bricks down! Last night I felt so good and strong that I don't even mind telling you when I came home I thought I was Rocky, and heck, I still do!

I have reached a personal best - and you know the very best part? I know I can still do even better :o)

"I'll have what she's having"

2009-04-13T02:09:00.000-07:00

Does anyone remember the TV advertisement which contained this slogan?

If my memory serves me correctly (which let's be honest after having Jim and Bob it probably doesn't) it was a Special K advert or similar. Well whatever the product was, I must admit that I find myself thinking and feeling this quite a bit lately.

I've found myself guilty of looking at weight loss gimmicks, advertisements, shakes, pills, potions and basically anything which I would ordinarily associate as a 'quick fix' and wishing I could indulge myself! Some days the actual work that is required to maintain my health and fitness just seems like a royal pain in the arse, and just once I wish a 'quick fix' could be the final answer!

Last week I found myself day-dreaming about a vast array of pills and potions all which promise to curb ones appetite, speed up your metabolism, melt kilos off your body; and if this wasn't good enough - increase your sex drive! Ding Ding Ding we have a winner!

Well despite the very appealing promises these magic pills claim to possess, I must admit when it comes down to it, they really aren't for me. Why? Well a few reasons really:

#1: To me they are like the easy way out. The shortcut in the road if you will. And yes, I could take a shortcut but then I know that I AM capable of working up a sweat myself (with the exception of the bedroom), I DO feel better after I exercise and make smarter choices regarding the food I put into my body, and I KNOW that at the very heart of the issue, it's not about weight loss but rather health, happiness and the example I am setting for my family; and,

#2: the second reason, and at times probably my saving grace, is that I am still breastfeeding Bob at least once a day. Heck, I'd be high as a kite off a codral these days let alone something called a hydroxy-something-or-other which states it contains 100 different sorts of ginseng, gurana and caffeine to boot!

I guess what I am getting at is that the choice to be healthy and change your lifestyle is constant. Somehow I had fooled myself into thinking that once I lost the desired weight I'd be able to settle back into my old ways again. Slothing it up on the couch, eating whatever I desired and only working up a sweat when slurping cocktails on tropical islands with the sun beaming down upon me (OK, that part is still a dream). What I hadn't seriously taken into consideration was the fact that for the rest of my life I would be working at this game called health. It's no longer about losing weight, now it's about keeping fit and living the fullest life I can. A healthy, active life.

To be completely honest some weeks the absolute last thing I feel like doing is exercise. Some days (like yesterday) I want to fall into a chocolate induced coma. Some times I want to be sloth like and lift nothing more than food to my mouth and the boys for a cuddle - But, those days are fleeting because the choice to live means the choice for health and the choice for health means moving more and eating less. What's your choice?

I'm a Baby Giraffe!

2009-03-28T22:26:00.001-07:00

Muscle Man and I have not long returned from a work trip to Melbourne. Whilst down there I decided to take Jim and Bob to the Melbourne Museum.

One of the many exhibitions at the museum related to baby animals, and their sizes. Naturally Jim was delighted with the hands on exhibits, including a larger than life scale which gave some weight comparisons to the unsuspecting human victim and the animal they most correlate with weight wise.

Jim being the light weight he is had a weight relative to that of a baby Emperor Penguin. That's nice and petite (and gorgeous) I thought. Let me try. Well, I'm not sure what would have been worse, actually seeing a digit flash up on a screen advising me I'm still carrying extra Christmas kilo's, or the animal I apparently weigh - a baby Giraffe! Surely I couldn't weigh as much as that! A baby giraffe would have 40 kilos alone in their neck, right......*cough*

Just for prosperity here is a picture of that brutal scale - I suppose I should be pleased I'm only the giraffe and not the hippo ;o)

A bad week

2009-01-14T15:11:00.000-08:00

Well, as the title suggests, it's a bad week (or month) for Alfie.

It all Started last week with the very sad demise of my treadmill. Muscle Man is to blame (true story) for putting too much of that 'muscle weight' into use and attempting to run at the fastest speed, on the highest incline, with a run up and leap to start! Needless to say the treadmill has died and along with it his sex life for a month - penance!!

In all seriousness though I am quite distressed that I no longer have an-in-home-exercise option! Canberra is averaging 36 degree temps at present and with Muscle Man away for work (escape became his only option) I am left with resorting to pushing Jim and Bob in my twin jogger in the heat! Without the endless excuses of yester-year, I have been dutifully running with the boys in the pram. It's a hard slog I tells ya! The weight of them combined and the pram equals close to (if not more than) 45 kilos. Add my weight to that and I may as well be running with a lead belt tied around my waist AND the weight I've lost to date. Oh and let's not forget that I should be doing so in a sauna with an overhead column heater blaring on my face and an industrial sized fan blowing directly in front of me.

Why then if I know I can run outside and can do so in less then favourable conditions, am I that upset about my faithful tready's death? Well, I guess being the year of honesty (Bugger the OX) I may as well spit it out - I have exercise agoraphobia! That's right, you read it here folks, I dislike exercising in public. It scares me. I feel like a fraud. My butt jiggles, my breathing isn't always as cool as a cucumber, I have a little muffin top spilling out my gym pants, and did I mention my bum jiggles.

I realise this all comes down to my own social perception of 'fitness' but when I envision a women jogging, I have this ingrained picture of perfection.....

A sports crop-top sitting on perky breasts with no signs of 3.8 yrs of breastfeeding and weight loss behind them, a wash board stomach with perfect muscle definition with every jogging step she takes - not a stretch-marked, saggy, 'used as an incubator' for 18 months stomach. I see slender muscled thighs which are firm and flexed with every stride she takes - I don't see thigh chaff and residual wobble as the Chariots of Fire theme song plays in the back ground whilst the remainder of thigh and cellulite catch up to the rest of the leg (all in slow motion of course). I see a perfectly taught and tiny bum, the kinda bum that hot pants were made for, not a wide load with saddle bags, cottage cheese dimples and JIGGLE.

I KNOW I can run. I KNOW I am great at running. I just don't look like a runner. This perception was confirmed yesterday when I mentioned to a colleague I'd been for a jog at 5.45am and he quipped back with "Oh, you run? I wouldn't have picked that". OUCH!

To me, my treadmill represented my right to jiggle in private. It represented my ability to set 3 pedestal fans up around me, put an episode of Desperate Housewives on and run to my hearts content in an environment where no jiggle, no breast sag, no cellulite or thigh chaff could possibly be subject to thoughts of "Oh, you run? I wouldn't have picked that".

Perhaps though, I need to look at this from another angle, and change my own perception about REAL women who run. Some of us do jiggle, some of us puff, some of us have stretch marks and exercise agoraphobia (yes, I made this terminology up) BUT at the heart of it, the main thing I NEED to remember is that some of us just get out there and do it anyway.

A leaf out of my own blog

2009-01-05T00:17:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year Bloggers :o)

How pitiful that in December I only made time for 1 blog entry. Shameful. I apologise. None- the-less, with January in full swing the time to get back on the keyboard has never been better. After all, January is the month where we inevitably start making new years resolutions and goals for the coming year.

This year I must admit I haven't made too many resolutions. In previous years without fail 'lose weight' was a resolution, and whilst I could have easily stated the same for 2009, I have decided that this is the year where I really need to focus on learning to love ME. Flaws and all, excess weight included.

I must admit I feel like a real fraud writing this particular entry when previous blog entry's have focused on learning to love oneself inclusive of cellulite, fat, stretch marks, lop-sided boobs and excess baby weight.

I'm not quite sure what went wrong towards the end of last year but somewhere along the way I stopped heeding (and to a point, believing) my own advice and strongly reverted back to my critical self-loathing behaviour. Did I gain weight? No. Did I keep exercising and eating well? Yes, but, was I happy and most importantly truly healthy during that time? No.

So, as far as resolutions go, my biggest one for 2009 is learning to change my negative thoughts (such as "my butt is the size of a walrus' and wearing yellow makes me look like Homer Simpson") and learning to appreciate, really appreciate, the strengths I have.

I have to be honest and say that I am not sure if I can achieve this on my own and it is possible that a trip (or 10) to a psychologist may be required however, one thing I can say for sure is that I am determined to change my thinking. Realistically I know just like I knew I had to loose weight, that I can not go one berating (or comparing) myself anymore.

So, this year my blog will remain focused on 'weight-loss' but rather than solely referring to the excess bulge around my middle, I'll be writing about my experiences with shedding the weight which I carry around in my head. The thoughts and statements I make about myself which continue to weigh me down!

I hope you'll join me for the ride :)

Alfie xxx

Tis the season....

2008-12-02T01:58:00.000-08:00

With the ‘silly season’ now upon us it seems the perfect time to stop and have a think about ways to keep the Christmas indulgence balanced to ensure our thighs don’t end up looking like the Christmas Ham.

If you are anything like me you will have many pressing social engagements over the coming weeks. All involving an abundance of food, drinks and of course merriment (aka: egg nog). be it work Christmas parties, mother’s group parties, family parties, friends, more family, and of course the big day itself.

The one day of the year where we seem to think it socially acceptable to eat until we are literally bursting out of our pants. The day where Uncle Herbert proceeds to undo his belt buckle and allow the button and zip from his jeans to slowly unfurl (or pop right off) to allow for the second helping of Christmas pudding and Aunt Ethel's trifle. Even worse someone in the family inevitably wears elastic waisted pants specifically allowing for easy stretching after a lunch AND dinner of pure indulgence.

Last Christmas I actually managed to jog 7 kms in between lunch and dinner. However, I then knowingly proceeded to eat every inch of food insight and completely make redundant my earlier efforts. In hindsight I would have been much better placed simply skipping the jog and reducing the quantity of food on my plate!

So, how do we avoid the extra Christmas kilos this year? Well, sadly my only answers are the same as usual. Move more and eat less. If your family is likely to have a vast array of mouth-watering-yet-weight-increasing-snacks on offer before the turkey makes an appearance, how about taking along a healthy fruit platter to share.

I am always bemused to see that the platters with celery, carrot sticks, humus, dried fruit and nuts, grapes, cherries and a variety of other low fat snack items seem to be the first off the plate.

If I were to give you my top 5 Christmas day tips they would be:

1: Start the day with a healthy, filling breakfast. I know some families start Christmas day with brunch. If this is you, consider indulging in summer fruits, healthy sea food, freshly squeezed juices, summer muesli's and yogurts mixed with seasonal berries. (NB: A glass of champagne is of course a must).

2: Take a 2 litre bottle of water with you. Christmas in Oz is hot of course and mostly always involves sun and champagne. If nothing else, your water will at best keep the hangover at bay till after 5pm!

3: Take the skin off! Not the quintessential sunburn we Aussies are so prone too – but rather, the skin off your bird. Chicken, turkey and pork are all meats high in protein. Whilst I too lament the skin is often the tastiest part, it’s also the part laden with fat and guaranteed to increase the size of my thighs! Over Christmas think about taking the skin off your meat and adding a teaspoon of home made apple sauce for some extra flavour!

4: Have a Christmas day stroll instead of an after lunch nap! For as long as I can recall my folks would have an afternoon nap in between lunch and dinner. Perhaps it was to recharge their batteries before the partying (eating) continued, or perhaps it was a direct result of the bodies exhausted efforts at digesting a days worth of food consumed in one hour!

It is often the case that when one feels full, they will also feel lethargy. So, how about this year rather than having a nap – take a walk. A gentle stroll around the block will give your body a chance to digest the ice-cream and trifle and give you a nice energy boost from the increased heart rate and blood flow! Hey, if nothing else you’ll be prepped for round 2.

5: Last but not least – put your party frock on and boogie! Christmas is a celebration and celebrations in my book are worth donning your pretty dress and fancy heels and reflecting on all the year has been. Laugh with your friends and family, enjoy good food and drink. And, if you do over-indulge - make sure you enjoy it - you can always work it off later :o)

Happy Christmas Season guys :)

Detox over!

2008-11-20T00:18:00.000-08:00

Hooray, detox is over!

Actually if I am honest with my loyal readers I must admit I ended it 3 days early.

I can justify it though.......

My baby sister and my awesome brother in law moved into their new home on Sunday. I volunteered to assist with the move and also weed their garden and mow their lawn (WHY GOD WHY????????????!!!!).

Truth be told, I actually really enjoy gardening. Being out in the garden and seeing the small improvements simply ripping weeds (at least I assume they are weeds) makes, fills me with glee (small things/small minds and all that). Not to mention it's free and usually my hobbies involve spending a fair portion of money needlessly!

Any-who, after spending the afternoon lifting boxes and weeding, I decided to venture inside for a glass of tasteless and very unappealing mineral water. Typically as I entered the kitchen weeds recklessly strewn all over my clothes, dirt replacing what was previously eye-shadow, who should I run into but my brother-in-law sipping away on a cold, inviting, desirable beer! Instantaneously my lips started to tingle, my hands started to shake and naturally I started salivating. (Gosh, I sound like an alcoholic don't I - DON'T ANSWER THAT).

Now it needs to be said that beer is generally not my first drink of choice. A cold glass of white wine is. BUT (clearly it is a big but), on a summer's day when the rays from the sun are penetrating through your clothes, you're dreaming of the beach and the accompanying life-guards (ahem) and sweat is beading the very make-up off your face - beer is the answer!

Well to cut a long story short, as I stood there envious of my brother, watching the bottle reach his lips and imagining they were mine, I decided to abstain from the beer but drive straight to the shops to purchase a celebratory bottle of Moet!

As my besty remarked, you simply CAN'T say no to Moet! So there you have it, a week long detox unfurled for a glass of expensive french champagne. Perfect.

I should add that in this week I was extremely loyal to my Blackmores box and abstained from the numerous 'no no's' listed in the detox handbook despite many being in my top-5-must-have-food-group (i.e coffee). I also lost 1.5kgs (started at 71kgs and ended at 69.5kgs) which is a grand feat in anyone's books; and continued running every day despite the claim I'd barely be able to lift my head from my pillow.

It has to be said though that aside from the very obvious lack of wine with my main meal (no, not lunch) I actually felt NO different at all. I had expected unthinkable headaches, numerous toilet stops and lethargy, but nope, nudda, nill.

So, what can I conclude from this I ask you - wine is good for the body, mind and soul - clearly ;o)

"D" Day's!

2008-11-11T21:40:00.000-08:00

Bula, Fiji was bliss!

It was so incredible in fact that Muscle Man and I are planning a return trip in March to celebrate our wedding anniversary!

I did jog once but thanks to the sand being so amazingly soft (and white) it was like attempting to run through powder snow (a very funny sight - unless you are the one trying to run in it). Needless to say after that first morning I willingly succumbed to holiday mode and took up my prime position by the pool - cocktail in one hand trashy novel in the other. Perfect.

One thing I must admit too is that I don't yet have the emotional strength to sit pool-side with a throng of amazingly beautiful women (some the mothers of multiple children) wearing string bikini's with not an inch of cellulite or trace of a stretch mark in sight. It looked so effortless for so many. Not a care in the world, not a whisper of gruelling Fijian morning runs or nastily self- critiquing every pair of shorts I wore.

Muscle Man became quite accustomed to pepping me up after each trip to the pool or beach where I would forlornly return to my room feeling like a beached whale tattooed (well scarred) with the map of the world on my not-taut mid section.

I think for anyone who has lost weight (or wants to) the battle is not simply won with loosing kilos. I've said the whole way through my blog that the quest to love ones-self and feel comfortable in our skin is more than half the journey. Fiji was a very real reminder that my battle is not yet complete and in fact if anything requires some serious adjustment of late.

So then, the question is what am I going to do about it?

Well, first things first - Dust myself off and start again! I must admit that prior to (and certainly after) holidays I had been feeling a little lax with my eating and exercise habits. Sure, I still ran/run an average of 25-30kms a week but it was becoming evident this was only enough to keep my wine and potato chip consumption at bay (yes, it was a large consumption.....of wine). Add to this the vast array of rich and indulgent foods in Fiji (not to mention the colourful and enticing drinks that come with my favourite appeal; a little umbrella and a glace cherry) and we have a recipe for thigh chaff. Yes, eventually something had to give (before my deck chair did).

So as a start, I am now on day 3 of 12 of a detox and healthy eating kick start. I am not thinking of this as a diet (I hate that word) but rather am thinking of this as a chance to replenish the soul, rejuvenate the mind and remove the excess fat! I must admit I don't feel amazingly better or worse (as had been toted) at this stage but I do feel capable and that in itself is a plus in my books!

I am of course on the eternal quest for balance and 'self-love' but surely I'll get there with baby steps right!

Yeah, I'm slack I know!

2008-10-08T15:56:00.000-07:00

Only in the blogging sense mind you! I still run just as much, whinge as much (if not more) and curse my paternal grandmothers genes just as much as ever!

But, I am slack in the blogging arena of late and I apologise profusely. I have picked up an extra day at work and Bob now sleeps in the room which houses the computer. I am determined not to let this fall by the way-side though so I am going to make a concerted effort to update with a decent blog at least once a week. Weight loss and exercise are very much a daily frustration/lesson for me so there is more to be said!

We are off to Fiji on Tuesday - HOORAY. I have two sets of swimmers picked out and have been mentally prepping myself for the confidence to wear both without a kaftan over top! I can't wait. Muscle Man keeps lamenting to me that he is looking forward to a whole week off exercise, I lament back that I am looking forward to crisp morning runs along Fijian beaches (that and the cocktails).

I haven't been jogging outside to much at the moment as I have a seriously debilitating fear of Magpies (anyone else?). Sexy Twin on the other hand thinks she is the Maggie whisperer and runs with them daily. She takes their swooping her as a sign of encouragement and runs faster (more like runs away...).

I am thinking it's almost time to either upgrade my faithful treadmill or invest in another piece of equipment. Maybe a x-trainer. Any thoughts? I am also determined to start attending at least 1 pump class at the gym per week with Muscle Man. I simply HATE weights and yet I completely recognise their benefits.

On another note if anyone wants to pay for me to have liposuction and a boob job, feel free!!

Until next time, Bula Vinaka - Am off for the morning run!

My Sexy Twin complex

2008-09-24T03:16:00.000-07:00

Being a twin has always come with the assumption that we choose to dress the same, speak the same, indulge in the same guilty pleasures and essentially that we are one personality in two bodies. When we were younger we revelled in this assumption because naturally being twins, we played the part. We were so accustomed to being identified as one person that at such a tender age, we knew no different than to accept the public perception and be “one”.

There is no doubt that being twins there is an unmistakable bond. We have a relationship that stems from the very core of our beings. A relationship that unlike any other comes with an undeniable oneness that no matter how we might try, we can not deny the fact that we are bound by something instinctive, something primal.

What then is the issue you may wonder? Well with social assumption comes pressure and to a large extent it has also potentially defined the way which I (and possibly sexy twin) view myself – both individually and comparatively. When you are expected to be the same, shouldn't you look the same too?

At the moment sexy twin is looking mighty tiny and I must admit that over the last few weeks I have found myself feeling like the “fat twin” again. Feelings which are reminiscent of years gone by. Growing up it was not uncommon to be told that she was the "skinnier" twin, naturally sparking a personal assumption that I must have been the "fatter" one of the pair.

The thing is, whether it is a twin, a friend, a sister, a mother, a movie star or simply Mary, Marg or Mollie next door, there are times in our lives when we do compare ourselves to others. In many ways how could we not when we are inundated with images of thin, toned, tanned women wearing string bikinis or LBD's (little black dresses), lying on a deck chair and having any male (or 4 litre container of castrol oil) within a 5 mile radius drooling.

Women of today are set up to believe that this is the way we should look. These images are defining the way in which we view not only ourselves but also the way we view others. It certainly makes it hard when in one advertisement we have waif like models swanning around on a cat-walk for "who wants to be a supermodel" and typically the very next advert will be for Jenny Craig. How can we possibly deny the subliminal messages which are being transmitted directly to our fragile 'trying-to-lose-weight' minds.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely acknowledge we have an obesity epidemic in this country, surely we all realise it. I'm personally not sure of the answer but one thing I am increasingly aware of is the need to teach self-respect, self-belief and a genuine understanding of health before teaching that a size 10 is the only way to be healthy or attractive. Perhaps to some extent my own perceptions are marred by my pessimism that society really does understand the pressure we place on young girls/women these days when it comes to body image.

Whatever the soap-box I am standing on this week, deep down I do know unequivocally that Sexy twin loves me unconditionally for me. She would never ever look at me as the “fat twin”. I also know that she would never consider herself the image, or model of what she and I should look like. I guess realistically this is yet another issue with battling the bulge. Learning to change our social and personal perception and, or, belief regarding the female form and the shape which it should allegedly take.

The weird thing about my own perception is that I often look at myself and wish to change my shape but then my shape is actually the shape I love the most on women in today’s society!

I guess that there is yet another example of my own body dysmorphia! Naturally I blame the media ;o)

A not so subtle sign!

2008-09-10T17:18:00.000-07:00

This morning when I went to clean my teeth in the bathroom I noticed my scales were wet. Using my powers of investigation (i.e. asking the males in my life what happened) I was able to deduce that Jim had pee'd on them! Now Jim has been toilet trained for over 6 months so I can only assume this is his way of telling me he loves me just the way I am and to abandon the scales ;o)

He's a keeper!

Spring has Sprung

2008-09-09T01:57:00.000-07:00

Spring has finally sprung, and for me, alongside spring comes a new vigour to enjoy life and smell the roses. I have found myself walking outside the last few days with a goofy-half-cocked smile on my face and a renewed feeling of health, well-being and motivation.

Maybe I love spring so much because in my family it represents so much life. Sexy Twin and I share a birthday in October. My Dad, younger sister, two youngest brothers, one niece, one nephew, and of course MY newest baby Bob, are also all born in spring.

Walk around any lake or parkland and you'll likely see baby ducklings, smell daffodils or John quills blooming; and living in the Nations Capital we are inundated with delicious smelling cherry blossoms and golden wattle. What's not to love. (Muscle Man just said hayfever! Condolences to all you sufferers)

It does however also mark the season when every second advertisement on TV is for weight loss clinics, meal replacement diets, gyms, pills or over the counter diet cures and every other "miracle cure, lose weight fast scheme". Let's be honest, in many ways it is the perfect time to start advertising these items. People are painfully aware that summer is nearly upon us and with that particular season comes the threat of swimmers, shorts, sleeveless tops and sadly for me - regular leg shaving (so lazy through winter!).

In my pre-fab days, I dreaded the onslaught of slender girls with long tanned appendages wearing 1/3rd of the clothing I was. I dreaded the thought of shopping for summer clothes; painfully aware muffins were a winter food and not a flattering look when displayed on your mid-section.

I dreaded the fact that my peers would be frolicking around in the waves on beach weekends away, and Sunday picnics to the local river, whilst I would be sitting on shore nursing my low self-esteem and rapidly diminishing levels of fun. I dreaded summer nights out when girlfriends would be dressed in flowing, slender summer dresses and if lucky, I'd have found a suitable kaftan. I am sure whenever there is something you fear, the world conspires against you and suddenly it's all you see. Swimmers, dresses, singlets, shorts, BIKINI'S would chase me in my summer night dreams.

Well, let's not let this summer be like that. Let's not let our fears, rational or otherwise, see us racing to the cupboard for a handful of chocolate and a smattering of chips whenever the word "shorts" is heard. Let's make this Spring season the start of brisk walks outside, indulging in fresh salads and ripe fruits, taking in the beauty of life and making genuine changes to ensure an enjoyable summer, now and for many more to come.

My best Spring tips to prepare for a beaut summer:

1: Take advantage of the extra warmth and light we currently have. Aim to walk for a minimum of 20 minutes during your day. If you work, go for a walk in your lunch break or after work before the last light. If you are home with kidlets aim to take them to the park a few times a week. Maybe try a different park every 2nd day and try and add an extra 5 minutes to your walk.

2: Start making salads for lunch. Salads can be interesting (although we all know you don't make friends with salad). Add sliced mushrooms, a spoonful of corn kernels, a tin of tuna, cherry tomatoes, a sprinkle of lite feta cheese, pinenuts, and english spinach or rocket for something new.

3: Spend a few minutes each day taking some deep breaths and stretching. As you do so focus on the fact that you CAN achieve your goals without the aid of marketing and scare tactics (i.e diet pills and shakes).

4: Visualise yourself at goals. Imagine yourself strutting the beach in your shorts. Imagine yourself in that summer dress or flowing skirt. Then set realistic time frames to those goals. Allow yourself time to enjoy life, indulge when you want too, and rest when you need. Moderation truly is the key.

5: BELIEVE IN YOURSELF! We can be our own worst enemy but also our biggest strength. Make the choice to be your biggest strength.

Remember - smelling the roses is a cliche, but it's a tried, tested and true one (in my opinion!).

Blast from the past!

2008-08-31T05:55:00.000-07:00

Tonight as I lazed around the house in a t-shirt and trackies I heard Muscle Man's teasing voice; "I remember when that t-shirt was tight on you". "Pardon" I say, "please elaborate" (wish I hadn't said that).

Anyway, he is quite right I do still have a number of clothes (mainly in the daggy variety) that I have kept and wear on the odd occasion (such as having done no washing all week). I must admit after the initial "Are you saying I was fat" (of course I was fat but he was not supposed to notice!!) I decided to take the obligatory before and after photo to compare!

Judge for yourself :)

Disclaimer: Top photo - clearly I had NO fashion sense, hence the reflective aluminium sunglasses.
Second photos: DAGGING it up around the house includes no makeup which means no face!

My 'weighty' advice!

2008-08-28T18:51:00.000-07:00

One of the most common questions I am asked in regards to losing weight is “How did you do it?”

I myself used to ask this question of people who had lost weight. When I asked it though what I was really hoping to hear was the magic potion. The secret answer to simplistic and fast weight loss. Essentially I wanted what most of us do – A quick fix!

I must admit that even now there are times when I am asked and I hesitate before responding with the truth – hard work, sacrifice, and sheer determination. I recall personally wanting the answer to be something I could actually walk away from hearing with a renewed glimmer of hope that I too could achieve that (with minimal effort on my part).

For this reason sometimes I wish I had a magic answer I could impart for the benefit and ease of others. Sadly though the reality is that however you look at it, long-term weight loss and health are simply not things, which come with a quick fix. At some point sweat will have to be induced and foods controlled.

None the less I have some tips, which have made the ‘journey’ easier, and less regimented:

1: If you are a lover of chocolate and like me can’t always control the quantity you consume, find a substitute. Chocolate-coated liquorice, air whipped chocolate mousse, a lite hot chocolate, and carob just to name a few! Also, consider having dark chocolate with a higher cocoa content.

2: Savoury – I am admittedly a big sucker for salty chips. Salt and vinegar are the best! Whilst it’s not chips I do enjoy a good crunchy carrot cut into sticks and eaten with a lite humus or tomato salsa. Celery is just as good and a very low cal snack! Plain rice crackers are not bad either!

3: Hot chips – Another weakness of mine that has been substituted with home made ‘tata chips. Peel and roughly chop a spud. Lightly toss chips through mixed herbs, a dash of olive oil (or oil spray) and a sprinkle of sea salt. Cook in a moderate oven until nice and crispy!

4: Drink tea or have a glass of water just before you eat. A cuppa is great for suppressing deceiving hunger pangs, as it needs to be sipped slowly. In the time it takes you to drink your tea can really consider either how hungry you are or how much you want that 2nd helping.

5: Popcorn is a great low fat snack and can be purchased in individual snack size packs. Sprinkle with a little season-all or chicken salt for that extra tang!

6: Change white refined carbohydrates to multigrain or brown. Small changes can make a huge difference. Swap the white bread for multi-grain as a start and then work on the brown rice.

7: Replace soft drinks for mineral water. If you want a sweet kick to your bubbles add a splash of cordial. This small change has the potential to save HEAPS of wasted calories! I use a reduced sugar cordial such as Cottee’s diet and find this has well and truly eliminated fizzy drink cravings.

8: Pack food away before you unintentionally have that second helping. For example If you are making a sandwich at lunch make sure you pack all the ingredients away before you sit down to enjoy lunch. You are more likely to eat more if the food is still out and visible. Packing it away signals your portion size is sufficient. If you have a salad sandwich add an apple or banana to your plate to really help fill you up and signify what you are eating and how much.

9: Use fresh fruit for juice. Instead of buying pre-made juices, such as orange, pick up a bag of Valencia oranges and enjoy the real thing! Packed with more vitamin c and less sugar, you can’t go wrong.

10: Be organised. I am a big believer in the Weight Watchers saying; if you fail to plan, you plan to fail! Make healthy snacks and lunches in advance. If you are anything like me you have a propensity to eat whatever is in sight when hungry so being organised can save an “eat everything in sight” binge!

So, what’s your best tip?

Battle of the bulge, or mind?

2008-08-22T00:14:00.000-07:00

So, indulge me; is the battle of the bulge really just the battle of the mind?

Today as I was enduring what can only be described as a gruelling, tortuous run, I was pondering to myself why is it that sometimes I can run the same path and feel as light as a cloud, and other times I require a defibrillator and well…basically a whole new body.

Sure there are certainly factors other than my mental state of mind at the time which can impact upon my run. At present I have a nagging head cold which in true Canberra winter style would like to stick around just to remind me how cold and miserable a long winter can feel by the end. As if trying to think through a heady haze of fog was not bad enough, the last few day’s I’ve tried to run through it also.

Yes, I have no doubt that some external factors can play a part in battling the bulge, but essentially external factors aside, in general when it comes to battling the bulge, where does the biggest battle really lie?

When we reach for the extra slice of pizza at dinner, or grab another handful of m&m’s whilst watching TV, what state of mind are we in? When we try on our tenth pair of jeans convinced we look fat in ALL of them, what state of mind are we in? When we self-critique as we look in the mirror and focus on all the personally identifiable flaws, what state of mind are we in? Or when we compare ourselves to Sexy Twin’s convinced we are twice their size, what state of mind are we in then?

Surely if we could abandon all these mental triggers and messages, the battle would be won? The choice to lose weight would be as simple as that. A mere thought that came to fruition because the biggest battle no longer existed and action immediately followed without thoughts of failure, or past incidence.

How many times have you said “this is my year, this is my time”. How many times have you started a ‘diet’ or decided that the time was upon you to make real and consistent changes? If you are anything like me, it’s too many to count.

All too often I would start a new day with a fresh approach. Determined this was the start of the real thing. This WAS the time I was going to lose weight. This diet would work. They never did. I never intentionally set out to sabotage myself, but I can see in hindsight that more often than not I was. The mental battle was already lost before the physical one had even begun.

So what am I saying? Well, I guess in many ways I am suggesting that a mental health check has to occur for many of us before a physical one can follow. For some people it really is as simple as eliminating those m&m’s from the diet. For some the adage that simply eating less to lose weight is true.

For others however, and for me personally, it’s so much more than what I consume. It’s equally if not more, about the exercise and, more importantly - the thought. Exercise is something I can control. It is something that I can conquer, and as a result, it is something I have self pride in afterwards. Sure, I feel pleased with myself when I resist the urge to binge, but unlike pushing myself on a good strong run, simply not eating a TimTam doesn’t come with the added bonus of endorphins.

There is barely a day that goes by that I don’t spend a large portion of that day talking myself in and out of exercise. I negotiate with myself over having ‘days off’. I negotiate with myself over where to run, what time and for how long. Usually it comes down to a simple case of running out of time and hence the only solution is to get running.

For me, when it comes to food, I don’t seem to negotiate. I eat it or I don’t. I feel some guilt, or I don’t.

As I was running along the ridge today, I was fighting all sorts of mental demons. “Just stop, it won’t matter. Turn around, go home. You deserve a day off. You have a sore throat. You need to rest. You’re too bloated to run today, you look like a walrus trying to chase a seal. Save yourself the embarrassment”. This is only a snippet of the thoughts unfurling in my head as I continued to push myself, and my legs, to finish the run I had started. Naturally the minute I arrived home and received CPR from Muscle Man (I mean it, resuscitation was required), I was elated I had run and felt a huge sense of pride and of course my runners high.

Some days running feels superb and I literally run with a smile wide across my face. The thoughts streaming through my head on these days are about my strength, my success, the enjoyment and self satisfaction I feel during and afterwards. These days my mental state, my mind, is clear and kind.

So why somedays am I mentally so 'in tune'. So prepared. Why others am I in desperate need of my own Tony Robbins and a kick up the bum to boot (both to get running and to be kind!).

Of course, it’s all SO much greater than just my run. It’s how I speak to myself mentally every day. Some days the battle feels won. Some days I think that I have all my monkeys on my back sorted and the “fat girl” I saw myself as for so long, is gone. Other days it’s so fresh I can almost literally feel the weight of her sitting on my left shoulder, whispering into my ear reminding me I have flaws (and flab).

Sadly the reality is I don’t have all the answers. The battle is yet to be won and I know all too well that it’s a daily challenge to eat well, to move more - and above all, to love myself for who I am, outside as well as in.

Sometimes I wonder if I had lost a really, really significant amount of weight (i.e. 30- 50 kilos) would I still feel this way? Or would the changes be so incredibly obvious I couldn’t possibly be disappointed with what I saw? But then surely it all comes back to the battle of the mind doesn’t it. In my mind I want to see myself as a svelte, taut, Gillian Michael's (USA Biggest Loser). Heck, wouldn’t we all in our minds eye?

So then, can someone tell me how to remove my minds eye?

Recipe Time! (Low-fat Vego Pizza)

2008-08-19T14:53:00.000-07:00

In lieu of time to post a proper update (will attempt to tonight) I thought I'd add one of my favourite, quick and easy low-fat recipes.

Pumpkin, Feta and Caramelised Onion Pizza.

1 onion
1/4 cup low fat feta cheese
1/2 cup pumpkin
1 Pitta bread round
1tbs homus (pizza sauce will also suffice)
Handful baby spinach leaves
Slivered Roasted almonds (optional)

To caramelise your onion leave it on a low heat with a a smidgen (roughly 1 tsp) of olive oil. The natural sugars in the onion will caramelise the onion but it must be cooked at a low temperature. You don't want it to burn, or brown. This will take about 20-30 minutes. If you like balsamic vinegar, you can add 1tbs in the last 10 minutes of cooking. It tastes just as good without it however.

Meanwhile, chop your pumpkin into little cubes and then lightly cook. I tend to zap mine in the microwave for roughly 3 minutes. Once your onion is cooked, toss pumpkin in with the onion and lightly cook for a further 10 minutes. Stir gently so the pieces stay nice and cubed (you don't want pumpkin and onion mash at this point).

Smother homus (or pizza sauce) on your pita bread before adding your onion and pumpkin mix. Whack the pizza in a moderate oven for 5 minutes before adding some baby spinach and a sprinkling of feta (add your roasted almonds here if preferable). Cook for a further 5-10 minutes.

Enjoy!

Bula Baby!

2008-08-14T00:32:00.001-07:00

Bula, Hello, G'day, Hi-how-are-ya!

Why all the cheery greetings you may wonder. Well, after months of my whinging to Muscle Man that I NEED a holiday to escape the daily grind (and my treadmill), we are but a hairs freckle away from booking a trip to beautiful Fiji! HOORAY!

It's been almost a year since our last holiday and at the time I just happened to be 37 weeks pregnant with Bob. So really, it almost doesn't count. At last, in just a few short months I'll be sitting back on a deck chair, a fruity cocktail in hand, sexy Fijian with a palm frond feeding me peeled grapes, and a tan to boot! See, I'm dreaming already.

In all seriousness though, the prospect of a holiday in tropical paradise does bring with it the very real and daunting thought of swimmers!

Growing up a bit of a fatty, I was never one for swimming, school swimming carnivals, the beach, summer, and of course - midriff tops and cut off jeans (hey, I was a child of the 80's). I was the token gal wearing jumpers in summer and sitting beside the pool pretending I couldn't swim, or worse, eating so I could use the parental "I have to wait an hour for my food to digest" lie. In truth though, I always knew I was missing out on all the fun and frivolity because my self esteem was so low and my thighs seemingly to big.

Well, this holiday I AM determined to go swimming with confidence.

Our last holiday took place in September of last year, to attend my cousins wedding in Palm Cove, Cairns. It was a fabulous holiday and an absolute highlight was snorkeling the Great Barrier Reef, whilst pregnant with an active baby on board, kicking away as I floated whale like, in awe at the tropical fish and coral below. Did I wear swimmers then you may wonder? Well, yes. I had board shorts and a swimming top - but somehow the enormous belly in front detracted the eyes from the other flaws I can otherwise see.

Realistically, a downside of this holiday was the fact that in my beached whale, waddling state, it was a laborious task to enjoy the day-to-day relaxation whilst sweltering out of my skin and requiring cranes and pulleys to get up off the local beach. I should have just stayed beached. After all, the Daintree wasn't going anywhere.

So, with that in mind, this holiday to Fiji I plan on doing nothing but snorkeling, cocktailing, beaching, sight-seeing and more snorkeling. With all this time immersed in water, the reality is I plan on spending time in swimmers.

For anyone who has ever battled the bulge (or is battling the bulge) you will understand all to well the panic attacks and irrational thoughts that accompany swimmers and public. The mind starts racing a million miles a minute, your palms get sweaty, you start feeling faint and before you know it you have chickened out by buying a serve of hot chips in a paper cup (an hour to digest), or dived head first into the pull still wearing your sarong.

With these thoughts racing through my mind already, how am I going to face the Fijian coast line (and all who occupy it) with swimmers on. Real life swimmers. Not knee length board shorts and a kaftan (although, surely the kaftan originated in Fiji so I'd fit right in) but actual "I've got confidence and am willing to show you" swimmers?

Hmmm, well I guess I've got a few months to figure that out. Stay tuned!

NB: Our resort has a gym! Very deliberate move that one. If I'm not running along to sand Ala Bo Derek style, I'll be running on the treadmill. Hey, it's only MINE I want to get away from ;o)

Spaghetti Meatballs - recipe

2008-08-06T03:46:00.000-07:00

Here you go Lil :)

I'll add a disclamier now though - this is not entirely my recipe. No, it's good old Maggi's and Sexy Twin's. None the less it is a low-fat, easy one and great for the kids.

500g premium lean mince
2 eggs
1 cup bread crumbs
crushed garlic
1 tbs mixed Italian herbs

Mix all the above ingredients well. Add additonal breadcumbs if the mixture is too moist. When you are satisfied with the mix's texture roll yourself some little meat balls whilst singing "The Prayer" in Italian at the top of your lungs, aka: Anthony Callea style - http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=6TwBZOttjlM

Heat 1tbs of olive oil in a pan and add your meat balls. Cook until brown (if you can, show your kids or significant other your amazing abilities by flipping the meat balls without the use of cooking utensils - be prepared to clean the floor, toddler, roof and and splash-back afterwards).
Then add 1 jar of tomato based pasta sauce, or tinned tomatoes (or fresh tomatoes and basil if you have them lying around). Add 1 pkt of Maggi Italian meatballs mix and simmer for 10 mins whilst you whack the pasta on and pour yourself another wine.

VOILA!

Serve with another glass of red, and the home grown (Italy that is) sounds of Pavaroti himself crooning through the CD player (the Best of the 90's will suffice).

Enjoy :o)

Pasta or Pilates!

2008-08-05T03:17:00.001-07:00

So, Which would you choose? Spaghetti Meatballs, salad and a lovely glass of penfolds....or pilates at the AIS?

I chose the pasta ;o) (OK, you got me, I chose the wine!).

I will add though that I jogged 6kms after work today so either way I think I earned that wine!

"You stink Mummy"

2008-08-04T05:17:00.000-07:00

Kids. God love them. Blunt as a tack and honest to boot.

"You stink Mummy" said my darling 3yr old Jim as I picked him up from 'Little School' today. "Thanks buddy" was my response as I sheepishly looked around to see how many unsuspecting parents, carers and children would now be trying to avoid getting a whiff of me. I reached down to give my little guy a hug and ask how his day had been. He recoiled. I'm going to blame the fact I was still huffing and puffing rather than the odour I was allegedly omitting.

In my defense, I had not 15 minutes earlier returned from a long run along the ridge near home before dashing inside only to get my car keys and head out to collect the kidlets and Muscle Man. No time for a shower, change of clothes, deodorant or even a thick winter jumper to try and contain some of the stench I was exuding!

Yes, I did stink. I knew it. Jim knew it. His School knew it. I was still wiping droplets of sweat off my forehead when I collected Muscle Man and this was despite driving with the car window down in 3 degree winter weather with a wind chill of minus 2 coming in through the drivers side window.

Well as if it wasn't bad enough to hear the harsh rejection of my stinky pits from my darling son, the child who loves and adores me despite my many flaws, I then had to hear a tirade of "Wifey, you stink" from Muscle Man too!

Pfft, so let's see, love can be blind but not smelling impaired?

Against All Odds...

2008-08-01T00:26:00.001-07:00

...I ran today!

Why all odds you might ask? Well put it this way, until 3pm I was still slothing about in my pyjama's and even then the only reason I got changed was because 3yr old Jim asked me to as it was "afternoon time". What are the days of lounging about in one's daggiest pj's coming to when you are asked to change by a toddler! Pfft.

None the less, change I did (into tracksuit pants mind you - big difference there!). At this point I started toying with the idea of actually christening my new shoes outside, rather than on the treadmill as tends to happen most days.

A quick phone call to Muscle Man to check what time he would be home from work and half an hour later I was off.

Canberra is a very deceiving place in Winter. From the comfort of ones home you can look outside and see a clear blue sky, golden sun, light and gentle breeze and what essentially looks like perfect running conditions. So as I set off, I was preparing myself for a lovely run with the sun slowly setting over the nearby Mountains and a nice cool breeze to soothe the sweat after the first kilometre! I'd envisioned grass parrots chirping, horses in the nearby paddock whinnying, rabbits bounding, a goofy smile on my runners high induced face....

I WAS WRONG!!

Within 2 minutes of being outside my head band and left earpiece from my iPod had blown right off. OK, not the greatest of starts but once I get my rhythm going I'll be right, I thought.

Not 500 metres beyond this I realised my right breast; correction - my only breast, was practically billowing out my top. After a seconds horror and realisation, I looked down to see my maternity bra undone. No wonder I only have one visible breast - it's bouncing some 11cm's each step I take with absolutley no support! Bra done up, take 3.

Well, the so called sun I saw from my lounge window was a cruel mirage. I was now running in absolutely freezing conditions. The clouds a grey menacing colour and rain looming on the horizon. C'mon, you can do this, was my mental chant as I was faced with blistering cold winds. My hands so called was tempted to try run with them under my arm pits, and would have if not for my vanity.

The wind I was facing was more than a simple head wind, it was a full body assault. Coming from every direction. In addition, it has actually been raining here for most of the day so rather than just running, I was having to master the art of hurdles to jump the strewn tree branches (see, blistering winds) and puddles that covered more than half the footpath.

What was I doing? Why wasn't I at home enjoying the warmth of my ducted heating watching this nasty weather unfurl from the safety of my home. No, that would have been the smart option right. Instead I am fighting (and it was a fight, I assure you) my way through winds reaching at least 100kms an hour (surely?!) and all the while acutely aware that any minute a tree branch - or at least a pile of leaves - could fly directly in front of me, dangerously blocking my vision and surely causing me to land in a puddle and DIRTY my new shoes, or at worst- fall over!

After 2kms the only option was to run as fast as my hide could carry me home. Walking was no longer an option. Despite the fact I was actually running as fast as I could, the wind was so forceful that to any passers by it would have looked like an exaggerated walk with a pained, almost constipated, expression on my face!

Finally, 7kms later I was home, and safe. Muscle Man so eloquently remarked as I floundered in the front door, I looked like a vagrant with an iPod.

See, against all odds!

The TimTam Binge

2008-07-29T20:04:00.000-07:00

Oh dear, not more than 10 minutes ago I hoed down 3 TimTams, one straight after the other! Tim Tams have not been present in our house in a number of years (to my knowledge anyway) and my lovely Jim just pointed out a packet he and Muscle Man bought this morning whilst I was at work.

Cue a momentary freak out followed by a salivating me and you have 3 TimTams gone in under 2 minutes flat.

So, now as I sit here pondering this predicament I seem faced with a few options.

1). Curl into the foetal position and howl like a baby at my lack of self-control, and subsequent regret (I clearly ate them so fast I didn't savour the taste!).

2). Increase my run by an extra 10 minutes today to work off at least 2 of the little chocolate devils.

3). Bugger the rest of the day and eat anything and everything in sight including any drive through takeaway options in my area, just because I can and I stuffed up before midday so why not keep the trend up.

4). Get over it! Big whoop, an extra 300 calories, I'll just feed the baby a few more times today and really, he wanted a few chocolate laden milk calories anyway right?!

5). All of the above.

I shall be back later to update you on which I chose ;o)

**************************

OK, I'm back! So after this mornings little indescretion I can advise that despite the desire to go with option 3 I did indeed choose options 2 and 4!

I didn't run for any longer than usual but I did increase the speed from my usual intervals of 9km/ph 10, and 11 to a speedy 11,12 and 13. I then followed up my 30 minute run up with a 30 minute weights session. TimTams, what TimTams? :o)

Stress Busters!

2008-07-28T02:18:00.000-07:00

Stress. It sucks. But like many things that suck, it is something we will inevitably always face.

Be it stress from work, the kids, paying a mortgage, planning a wedding, dealing with family, whatever the case, we all face stress at some (mostly numerous) times in our lives. How we combat stress is the issue though. I used to eat.

Working in the public service (or any office environment really) there is usually dozens of blasted fundraising chocolates (ironically, a little fat frog called Freddo), coke machines, cafes, social club lollies (and alcohol). And, well, let's face it - nothing but a chair to plant ones butt in all day! Let's be honest, it's a recipe for fat!

There were days in years gone by where I could feel my buttock expanding as I savoured my 3rd Freddo for the hour before contemplating eating his mate, Caramello Koala. Worst of all, Freddo and Caramelly didn't even account for the hot chips, cappuccino's, roast beef and gravy rolls (YUUUMMMM...*drool*) and anything else laden with fat or sugar to to help me blast the stress away. It was not uncommon for me to sit at my desk surfing the net whilst chowing down large quantities of food and washing it down with a guzzle (or is that gallon) of coke.

The truth is, If I wasn't eating to stave off the stress, I was shopping. Usually for food.

I suspect that much of this behaviour came from my days as a faithful and aptly profiled employee of Darell Lea chocolates. Each morning I would front up to work, wash my coffee down with a handful of caramel snows and begin the laborious task of individually packing a vast assortment of chocolate and lollies. Naturally sampling was a must, and the "one for you, one for me" slogan rang true to form.

During my employment at Darrell Lea, Sexy Twin and I were renting a small town-house and at times struggling to pay the rent, utilities and make ends meet. In addition to the stress this caused, we (yes, that's right, Sexy Twin was a Darrell Lea employee also) had the unfortunate pleasure of working with a tyrant of a man whose middle aged, balding, impotent, insecurities, somehow convinced him it was appropriate to comment on our attire, make-up, breasts, butts and sexual appeal from time to time. **

Each time he would leave the shop I would chow down on Peanut brittle followed by Coconut Roughs before retiring to the 'Pix N Mix', all the while harbouring immense frustration at my 18 year old inability to tell the guy to "F^*K OFF" .

Yes, I am almost certain my emotional/stress eating generated at this point in my life. I carried these behaviours, and subsequent kilos, with me for a number of years.

These days when I feel tense, tired, angry, stressed, woeful etc etc I run.

Tonight when I arrived home from work I was feeling despondent and lethargic. In typical Public Service, waking through the night to feed a baby fashion, I'd consumed too much caffeine, not enough water and failed to avert my eyes from my computer screen for most of the day, resulting in a typical office employee headache tinged with a caffeine high. As I was changing out of my work clothes and preparing to put on my pyjamas and call it a day ("yes Muscle Man, that's right - dinner in bed please") I decided that the best way to beat my 'Mondayitis', stress induced, coffee addled mood was to get off my butt (heaven knows it's been sat on enough today) and get moving.

30 glorious minutes later my head was clear, my heart pounding, my desire to eat everything within a 5 mile radius abated, and my mood calm.

Yes, it can not be denied, exercise is the BEST way to beat stress. A glass of wine and sex help too but I'd have them in that order. Exercise, wine, sex ;o)

** That foul individual (harsh but fair) is now packing drink vending machines for a living. And who said karma isn't alive and kicking!

Back to Basics!

2008-07-22T03:02:00.000-07:00

In light of recent entries I have taken stock of my current emotional, mental, and physical state and decided it’s time to get back to basics!

When I first began my successful quest to lose weight 2 years ago, I was heavily reliant on my “food and feelings” diary as a way to keep track of my daily food intake, and to record the feelings I had about loosing weight, making healthy decisions, and sadly all the self-loathing I had towards my body and my belief in my inability to lose weight.

Being one for instant gratification, my own expectations had previously always been such that the minute I decided to lose weight, I assumed (OK, desperately hoped) it would just 'fall' off. Naturally when this did not occur, I would throw in the towel, have a tantrum to rival my toddlers and then resort to a big bag of chips or chocolate in an effort to console myself. I simply could not get my head around, or more honestly, choose to acknowledge the fact that losing weight required CHANGE. Real long term, lifestyle change.

We currently live in a society which is so saturated with “quick fixes”. Diet pills and shakes, exercise machines guaranteed to show results in as little as 5 minutes a day, hypnosis, acupuncture, lap-band surgery…the list goes on. And of course this is what we see splashed across the media daily, because let’s be honest, if an advertisement was to come on TV with an overweight person huffing and puffing a house down, sweating up a storm, and cursing like a sailor (such as I do) would it sell? No. Of course not. However, stick around for 5 minutes after a decent-sweat-induced-exercise-session and you’ll be treated to a genuine euphoric, endorphin- induced sense of pride and satisfaction, which simply can’t be rivalled by the likes of pills, shakes, potions and lotions!

Sadly it would seem people are more interested in making money then selling the truth.

The sad reality is that we are living in such a fast paced, busy world these days that it so often seems that all we have time for is the quick fixes. I myself have fallen for the trap many times of thinking that the quickest option is the most suitable.
I'm a busy Mum, I work part-time out of the home, have a house to tend, kids to raise, a cat to feed, friends to see, a husband to whom some days marriage is harder than an 8km run with a headwind- really, who has time for exercise? Why wouldn't we choose the easy option and grab a packet of xantax from the chemist?

Well, for me personally, when it comes to real health and well being, the matter of fact truth is that the only REAL option is the age old adage. Eat well and move more. Sounds simple in theory right, but yet why then is it so hard?

Perhaps it all comes back to instant gratification. We want results now. Not in a year, not a month, not a few weeks. No. NOW. And if you are anything like me, by the time you are making the choice to try and change, you are so sick of seeing the weight related flaws that even yesterday wouldn't have come quick enough for the new and improved body we are so desperately craving. It's all to hard. Pass the pizza please!

Sadly though my friends, I have news for you. Harsh, cold, unrelenting news. There is NO SUCH THING as a quick fix. In the vast majority of cases people who manage to lose weight with the aid of shakes, pills, and powders will often find the weight is back within a few short years. Essentially, the problem being that a change in long term lifestyle did not occur. It wasn't learnt.

Just yesterday I was lamenting to Sexy Twin that this journey is endless. It just goes on and on and on. And the thing is, it does. It’s like paying taxes, buying groceries, cleaning the house (for some of us). Health and well being SHOULD be a daily action. A daily choice, a lifestyle that you live by.

Even if it is only making the choice to park the car an extra 100 metres from work, or drinking your 2 litres of water each day. Or how about consciously cutting your portion sizes in half and really fuelling the body with nutrient rich foods.

Am I suggesting you wake up tomorrow morning and start training for the next local marathon. No way. I am suggesting however, that we get right back to the very basics of good health. Let's challenge our perceptions and social expectations of weight loss, and live the way we are intended too. With movement and nourishing foods daily, and treats in moderation.

For me, getting back to basics means dragging out my food diary. Keeping track of what food I eat and making conscious decisions before I eat to really think; "Do I need this?" "Will it satisfy me?" "Is there a better choice I could be making?". I do the same with exercise. Is there a pay off to this? Will it improve my fitness and well being? Will I reap the benefits of this activity in the long run, even if I can't be arsed right now?

I have also set some firm goals to focus on.

1: I would like to lose 4 kilograms to reach my goal weight.

2: I would like to focus on body tone and strength.

3: I would like to change the shape of my body, to lose my post-baby belly and become lean.

4: I would like to push myself harder when my exercise routines feel easy. To reach that next fitness goal.

5: I would like to keep it fun! Keep my kids involved and ensure there is a 'pay-off' to everything I do where health and weight is concerned.

6: I would like to learn to love myself more than I do now. To be proud of what I can and do achieve and to release myself of the years of low-self esteem surrounding my body weight and image that linger and occasionally cloud my perception.

These goals are my goals from now until October this year. I'm going to reach them all :o)

So, what are your goals? Do you need to get back to the basics?

I'm Walking on Sunshine

2008-07-18T02:40:00.000-07:00

Wooooooo~oo~oo, I'm walking on sunshine woooo~oo~oo, and don't it feel great!!

Gosh it's hard to write lyrical sounds like woooooo~oo~oo on paper! In my head (OK, I am actually singing it out loud) it sounds perfectly right though. Ever tried to type the theme music from Jaws - yeah, it's tough!

To be accurate, I am actually walking (well running) on clouds. Yesterday Muscle Man and I finally treated ourselves to new joggers. It's shameful to admit that since my post a few months back, which featured pictures of my toes poking out the side of my shoes from all the kilometres I'd run in them, I have only just replaced them. Yes. Shameful.

None the less, lectures aside, yesterday we went to the local Athletes foot and took the time to use their fancy 'footprint' system and have proper shoes fitted. I must admit that when the sales assistant came out with a pair of fluro green men's shoes, I baulked. I humoured him and tried on the pair before bluntly advising that whilst the correct fit was important to me, vanity was also, and I would not be caught dead sprinting down the street looking like I had giant boogers on my feet. That and the fact I am actually a WOMAN and would happily try on ladies shoes!

As if that wasn't bad enough I was then asked to roll my pants up to my knees so he could see me 'walk' in my new feminine shoes. "What's so bad about that" you ask, well, aside from the fact it was a work day and I was in my lunch break wearing work pants, a shirt, winter jacket and ASICS socks under my boots (yes, not even black socks or stockings - call the fashion police), I had also not shaved my legs in a number of weeks (*cough*, *splutter*...months). Suddenly the 'booger' shoes looked appealing and my claims of vanity were rapidly coming unhinged.

As I sheepishly rolled up my pants I added my disclaimer "Ummm, I'm a busy Mum of two you know, I haven't had a chance to shave my legs this week..." at which point I spied Muscle Man giving Mr Athletes foot employee a knowing glance as if to say "Yep, it's bad, and I have to live with her" (for that I ain't shaving till winter ends now).

Embarrassment aside I tried on two pairs, pranced around the shop briefly all to aware I was looking ever more ridiculous by the second and happily settled on a lovely pair of Nike running shoes.

What a difference new shoes make. I've run 15kms in them over the last two days and felt like a deer leaping through a Field of daisies. Yes, call me Bambi.

I hear by pledge that I will not leave it till I hit the "million km" mark in these shoes before I change them again. The feeling of new shoes is just to good to neglect! Can't wait to take them to the road tomorrow!

The art of Procrastination

2008-07-17T02:27:00.000-07:00

Procrastination - According to some random online dictionary, the definition is as follows:

pro·cras·ti·nate: To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.

I could be overly sensitive, but that definition is needlessly harsh, don't ya think? Some tasks just suck and quite frankly procrastination is the best defense. In fact, I'll go as far as to say, it's the smart defence!

I must admit, I have the art of procrastinating down pat. Be it waiting for the storm clouds to roll in on a sunny day to avoid hanging washing on the line (OK, that's pessimism), eating to avoid cleaning, sleeping to avoid eating, reading to avoid sleeping, emailing to avoid working...the list is endless.

When it comes to exercise I must say I procrastinate right up until the eleventh hour. Sexy Twin is very diligent when it comes to her run and schedule. She wakes up of a morning promptly feeds her baby, organises her school aged child and drives her to school before coming home, putting the baby to bed for her morning nap, and then jumping on her treadmill to belt out an inspiring 7.5km run! Sexy Twin is wiping of the last bead of sweat as I am rolling out of bed and debating how to start procrastinating my day!

I must admit, I am envious that she is so disciplined in this regard. I am envious that in many respects she has her run done and dusted whilst I am left with the knowledge that at some point in the day I am going to have to stop avoiding the inevitable, and attempt to work my arse off! That said, I am not a morning runner and generally find that my best runs are mid-late afternoon when I have coffee coursing through my veins, food in my belly, child related frustration or exhaustion to run off, and limited hours in my day to continue making excuses.

On Monday I was home from work with Jim being unwell. Bob was fast asleep and I was being habitually careless and lazy (yep, it sounds harsh). I was avoiding any form of heavy lifting, light dusting, gentle cleaning, and endless washing. I was also vehemently avoiding exercising.

To be honest I was busy making a cubby house with Jim and regaling him with childhood stories and tales from my own cubby house building days (Sexy Twin and I even made one with running water once - ya huh - cool, we know!). As Jim and I lay under the kitchen table (ahem, cubby house) which I'd dragged into the lounge and draped with blankets, I reflected on the fact that no matter what I do to avoid exercise, no matter what things 'pop up', nine out of ten times I still make the choice to go for a run or lift my weights - it just happens later than originally planned, but none the less, it happens.

At some point it's like I just snap. I realise that time is of the essence and that the feeling I will have once my run is over, is complete calm, complete satisfaction, bursts of energy and a new found vigour to *think* about other jobs at hand and face my children with a loving smile despite the observance of Jim's having wee'd down the heating vent whilst I was busy sprinting my way to a tighter butt (true story).

In this regard I suggest we change the definition of procrastination. Surely it's only careless and lazy if you don't get around to the task at hand at all. In which case I actually think my form of procrastination is admirable! No matter how lazy I try to be, I've well and truly been bitten by the endorphin bug and eventually they have me up and running. Now, where can I find the cleaning bug.....?

Here is the proof of my attempt at exercise avoidance, and yes, my toddler thinks he is the 5th Wiggle!

Body Image and our example!

2008-07-14T03:28:00.000-07:00

The latest edition of Health Smart magazine has hit the shelves, complete with my little tidbit to the editor of course ;o) A particular article which caught my eye instantly, titled "The Shape We're In" has a brilliant comment;

"If every women in the world woke up, slapped herself on the head and said: 'I'm happy with who I am' entire economies would collapse"

How true. Socially we are so attuned to seeing 'perfection' splashed across the television, Internet, magazine covers, billboards - everywhere - that we have this predetermined idea in our minds about what is the perfect body, what is the perfect shape.

It would seem that if you are not able to fit into a string bikini, sport the perfect golden sun kissed glow, have a scar, stretch mark, cellulite dimple in sight, and an IQ over 100, you just don't cut the mustard. You probably eat it yes, cut it no.

But when did we become so unrealistic and obsessed with body image? When did we go from worshipping curves and stunningly voluptuous womanly bodies, to craving, and promoting, waif like praying mantises.

Yes, it could be easily said I am jealous. In some part I admit I am, but surely that's based on my own learned perceptions of the 'perfect figure'. I will never be caught dead in a bikini - the fact I'd have to have it custom made to fit my so called bosoms, lefty and righty, is a large deterrent sure, but generally I accept I don't have the figure which we deem acceptable viewing when clothed in the likes of a piece of string. Not to mention one look at my array of road map stretch marks and I'd have people asking for directions!

I also will never be so thin that should I turn sideways you'd lose sight of me. Do I wish I had a sun kissed glow all year round, no cellulite, stretch marks or wobbly bits of skin? - you bet, but that said, it is my fervent belief that in this life time, it really is more important to model inner traits such as kindness, patience, acceptance and so forth.

Am I saying that being healthy, fit and sexy are not important? No, I strongly believe they are, hence my own quest to be healthier and fitter, but I also believe that you can be sexy at any shape or size. Beauty and body image is not mutually exclusive to size 8 models. To me health is FAR sexier than size.

The last few weeks I've wasted too much time and emotional energy obsessing and stressing over my own body image. I find it goes in cycles. Some weeks I will feel fabulous, exuberant and confident. Others, not so. Overwhelmingly though I am all too aware of the fact that at the heart of the issue, these things do not make a person worthy. A slender person is absolutely no more deserving or unique than a person sporting a muffin top and a vast array of chins, it's just that we are programmed to feel more favour towards thin, attractive people.

Images of attractive, slender people are splashed in front of us so often that it is no wonder if we don't fit the mould we convince ourselves on some level that we are not 'up to scratch'. Surely I am not the only one who notices advertisements featuring a leggy, waif like blonde, are then followed by Lite N Easy, Tony Ferguson or Jenny Craig. Target marketing at it's best!

One day I hope to be blessed with daughters, and the notion that they too may be exposed to the same images we are, is alarming. How can we as parents set the best examples for our children and instill values in them such as self-respect, self-belief and true beauty. The beauty that comes from within.

For Muscle Man and I we hope that our actions reflect a desire to BE healthy. A desire to live a life filled with trips to the park, Frisbee in the backyard, jumps and flips on the trampoline and a healthy attitude for exercise and nutrition.

In this vain, I realise unequivocally that I need to start setting the example by not forcing myself to engage in daily activities or exercise which are to my own detriment. I have become increasingly aware that I have at times called myself "fat" in front of Jim and that at the tender age of 3.5 he is already capable of forming, and attributing my thoughts with his impression of a "fat woman". I am ashamed to admit the above, but I do so with a view to recognise that even the smallest actions on our part, will reflect the thoughts our children will take, and make their own.

The shape I am in is a good one. I could improve on my health, I could improve on my fitness, but the most important thing I could improve is my body image!

My Biggest Ally

2008-07-09T23:59:00.000-07:00

Today has been a pretty emotional day! There is no real reason for it, just one of those random odd self-depleting days where perspective seems hazy and emotions run wild.

After a failed shopping attempt this morning (DAMN JEANS SHOPPING) I came home feeling quite despondent. Stupidly I pulled out a pair of bathroom scales and on I hopped. Well, aside from the fact these particular scales are broken, I was wearing jeans, leather boots, and a winter jacket. Needless to say the scales are now 'officially' broken!

So, after bursting into tears I fired off an email to Muscle Man. It was a very self pitying email. Similar to this:

"Woe is me, I hate my body, why can't I be Elle McPherson? Why can't I have skinny genes in order to buy skinny jeans? I want my cake and to eat it too, chocolate sounds good. Did I mention I hate my thighs? That reminds me, I'll have KFC for dinner a chicken thigh would be great. Why does clothes shopping suck so much? Can I have liposuction....blah blah blah"

Now, you have to imagine me sitting at my computer, tears streaming down my face, mascara staining the computer desk, violins playing in the background and guttural sobs coming from me as I give the keyboard the thrashing of it's life (Yes, that time of the month is fast approaching - either that or I am up the duff!!!).

Well, being the wonderful Muscular Man he is, this was the email I found after jumping off my treadmill.....

You know, I love your body, always have through the many different stages that it has been through. I will continue to because I love the person you are too.
You work hard, at times I reckon too hard. You need to learn that enjoyment is key to looking and feeling good too. If you feel like you're just slogging, then everything goes with that.
You'll always have hips, sexy hips. You'll always have a great butt.
Take a step back and take a week off. Evaluate what is important to you and then plan what you are going to do. Look at different things that will help you feel positive and make you want to attack this with all your mind,body and soul.
Sadly we have to work to look a certain way. You've said it before and now you have me believing it too, you feel better for working hard, but it has to have the balance and the right attitude which you are possibly lacking at the moment.
Maybe re-balance, run 3 times a week, not 6. Do 2 weights sessions and then on the other days when you feel like you should be doing something, go stretch and relax. Maybe we get a Pilate's DVD that you can do when you feel like you should be doing something.
I'm a poor model too, I slack off all the time then hit my straps like I've only got a day to live. Maybe a bit of consistency from me, including running with you 3 times a week and doing Pilate's at home with you is going to be a help.
That's what I'm here for baby, to help you. Let me know what you need.
I love you.

YES, give that man a prize! I feel loads better thanks to those jogging endorphins, but it has to be said that Muscle Man is right (there's a first time for everything right...and a last). I think my next entry I'll focus on setting some new goals, a new exercise plan and striving to achieve the balance I am so clearly lacking at the moment!

Oh, and no, he only has a sister - no brothers!

Words of Affirmation!

2008-07-07T03:10:00.000-07:00

OK, so despite the cheery, easy-going, attitude and tone I express 95% of the time, I am human and fallible and therefore, I have moments of weakness and despair! Usually I can ride them out pretty well and just put it down to "that time of the month". Of course NO ONE else is allowed to imply that's the reason for my being blue, but between you and I, more often then not it is the underlying reason I feel so "fat" some days.

The last few weeks however I have been particularly critical of myself and I think it's been evident in my blogs of late. I keep scalding myself for bringing the tone of my blog down, but then at the same time I also want to be someone who others can relate too. I know that most people in this journey are going to have hours, days, weeks, months and even years of berating themselves and despairing over their weight and body image.

I am in the 'weeks' phase at the moment. I am sure it has to do with the dreaded P word and so I am trying to take it in my stride and be as kind to myself as possible, but then at the same time I am having moments of self loathing where seeing my reflection is enough to have me consider crying (yes, I only consider - I'm too tough to cry).

As hard as I try I can just be so hard on myself and even my last 2 years of learning to have positive self-talk is only going so far at the moment. So, rather than sitting in my lounge room berating myself over the muffin top spilling over my tracksuit pants, I have decided to take affirmative action and remind myself of the enormous life style changes I have made. I truly believe some healthy self-assessment and affirmation is a MUST on this vicious cycle of weight loss.

So, here goes:

I have lost in excess of 20 kilos! All through my own hard work, perseverance, determination, assertiveness and self belief.

I have gone from a couch potato to a runner! Previously running to flag a bus caused heart palpitations, now days I could outrun the bus (OK, slight exaggeration, but hey!)

I am a size 12!!! Before losing weight the only thing I owned remotely close to a size 12 was my size 9.5 shoes!

I am setting a great example to my children. I will be an active, involved Mother for years and years to come.

Muscle Man and I have a much better sex life (sorry, 'TMI' I know, but it's TRUE).

I have more confidence (yes, it has a way to go yet, but it can only go up from here).

I have more energy. Before energy was found in a small silver can called Red Bull, now it's found in the feeling after slogging out a 7km run!

I looked like this.. (exhibit A) and transformed myself to look like this (exhibit B). Speaks for itself. Yes, I was slightly intoxicated in exhibit A, BUT that does not account for the bowling ball face.

Now I also want to remind myself of a few reasons why it's OK to have a little podge around my middle, why it's OK to enjoy the occasional indulgence and moderation, why it's OK to have a day off exercise and enjoy the indulgence that day may bring.

Bob is only just 9 months. I know my body likes to hold onto extra weight whilst breastfeeding and for the sake of nourishing my baby, that's OK.
I can, and have achieved my fitness and weight loss goals in the past, and will continue too do so.
I am making a very real effort every day to keep myself fit and healthy. I have learnt and adapted life long behaviours that will continue to improve my health, fitness and self respect.

So, if you are a little like me and are in a bit of an emotional rut, maybe it's time for some positive affirmation, positive self-talk and a piece or two of chocolate - GUILT FREE!

**You'll have to take my word for it that I HATE that first picture. It's horrible, absolutely horrible! But honestly, what good is a FAT TO FAB blog if there are not some fat and fab pics :o)

Could it be a Plateau?

2008-07-03T23:22:00.000-07:00

Damn I hate that word! Plateau. It's the kind of word that has to be said with an air of disdain when saying it. A word that violently and frustratingly rolls off the tip of my tongue and brings tears of bitterness to my eyes. OK, so slight exaggeration but creative flair has to be accounted for in all my stories.

Last night as Muscle Man and I were having dinner, I pursed my bottom lip and in an annoyingly pouty tone announced that I have hit a plateau!! Muscle Man remarked that the glass of red wine in one hand and pork crackling in the other might be adding to my so called plateau. How rude!

Indignantly I reminded him that wine is my only vice and 8 out of 10 times I choose and will eat the healthy, nutritionally balanced meals. If anything there would be days where I am not meeting my daily calorie quota, rather than the other way around. So, what is the problem? Why do I feel like I am stuck on struggle street not loosing an inch of weight or a centimetre of size.

I've always carried the most weight in my mid section. A number of years ago I attended one of those L.A Weight loss style centres where they charge you one mortgage payment up front to draw your blood, advise you of your weight, and then throw big scary words at you before asking you to sign your soul to the program. Of course they forget to tell you that to actually join the program you need to take out a small loan and be prepared for pessimistic and catastrophic words and syndromes to be thrown at you every time you front up for a new blood test!

After my initial consult I walked away with a hole in my pocket and the knowledge that I apparently had metabolic something-or-other failure (I was distracted by the fact that the guy informing me of this condition and it's associated outcomes, was easily 50kgs heavier than I was). Along with the disheartening information that I was apparently unable to lose weight easily, I was also faced with all these side affects of this so called syndrome. Heart failure, infertility, varicose veins, FAT, acne, bad breath...oh the list went on. I walked out convinced I HAD to join their program or otherwise any efforts on my behalf were hopeless and futile.

In the end the sheer cost of the program was the deterring factor (well that and the fact it was hard to believe the program had results when the persons providing it had such evident weight issues also). I've never really been one for labels. My family has a strong history of depression, and aside from the fact I find it very hard to understand at times, I refuse to believe that because it's there, and the genetic timeline, is evident, that I don't have some control over the outcomes myself. Well, I felt the same way about this metabolic syndrome thingy-ma-jig.

Turns out I CAN lose weight on my own without the aid of blood tests, beetroot juice, starvation and various other methods of torture. However, it's no secret (to me at least) that it is DAMN HARD WORK! Sometimes I just feel like throwing my hands in the air and screaming to the weight loss Gods WHY ME?!?!!? Why did I have to be one of the unlucky ones who has a cup of tea and gets bloated. Why did I have to be one of the ones who was born with chubby thigh rolls that never disappeared, one of the ones who still looks 6 months pregnant when her children are 12 months old. I have ALWAYS had a muffin top, I've always had a bigger butt and I have always had a distinguishable donut if I clench my hands around my belly and make a circle with the excess fat!

I'd be outright lying if I said that I am just blissed out with my body now. I am not. Whilst I completely recognise and appreciate my efforts, and can see the hard slog I've given it, I can also honestly say that it frustrates me that I can jog 30kms in a week, eat healthy and nutritionally balanced foods all week and still not budge an inch!

Ahhh, you see this is where the "P" word comes in! Despite Nardi's Wii fit advising me I need to lose another 8 kilos to be in the centre of my healthy BMI, I know that I am happy with my weight. The number on the scales really does not distress me so much these days. No, it's the image I see when I look in the mirror, or put on a pair of low cut jeans. The bulges that spill over in the moments where I let my guard down and rest lazily on my residual baby belly.

I do understand that for anyone reading this who may be at the start of their weight loss journey, you may think "What is this crazy girl whinging about" and I admit I feel a sense of embarrassment or guilt that I do feel this way, but I also want to be transparent and honest in my personal observations that this weight loss gig is constant! I am yet to find the point where there is no such place as hard work or sacrifice. For me, it's always hard work, because for me the battle is raging in my mind.

I guess that's a blog for another day though isn't it. Healthy body = healthy mind or healthy mind = healthy body?!

The Daily Grind!

2008-07-01T00:59:00.000-07:00

If only I was referring to Arabica, Colombian and Porte Rican...sadly though, I am talking about the daily grind of work. I'm back. I had forgotten how much organisation and energy working in paid employment and tending to children simultaneously requires. It really is go, go, go from sun-up to sun-down!

This week I am participating in induction training. I have started work in a new Government Department (hey, I live in the Public Service Capital after all) and despite having spent the last 7 years of my employment, in the public sector I am back at square one learning about Australian Public Service values and codes of conduct (and not by choice mind you) BORING.
So, today as I was sitting in the most enthralling training session known to woman (ahem) I started day dreaming.....as I do. Normally my day dreams are squarely centred around fleeting rendezvous with Wentworth Miller (Prison Break) but today I was day dreaming about my life on maternity leave - I know, it's a shock (anyone who knows me will tell you I am not stay-at-home-Mum material. Sad, I know).

Well, as of last week I was still looking at large quantities of spare time each day. My time. Sure, I have young children at home, so life is busy, but ultimately I still had chunks in my day where I could decide that it was time for a run on the treadmill, I could do weights in front of the TV, I could load the boys into my jogging pram and take them for a run. I also had time to grab a coffee with Sexy Twin, go shopping, read a chapter of a good book, blog uninterrupted, talk on the telephone and of course, make play dough (or egg carton caterpillar's as it may be).

I know that what I am about to say is taboo, and possibly an unpopular train of thought, but it's my blog and I'll risk it.....here goes......In my personal opinion and from my 3 1/2 years experience and 2 children (disclaimer: the view about to be expressed is subject to change if I deem fit, as more children come along) being at home, whilst hectic, chaotic and stressful at times, was still not as bad a gig as some make out to be.

I think there is a national consortium on how Mother's are 'supposed' to feel whilst at home. The image that runs through my head is a haggard, sleep deprived, no make-up, tracksuit pant wearing, breast milk crusted on my shoulder, spinach in my teeth, no time for a shower, coffee addicted, placenta brained, flabby mess. Truthfully, not every day is like this. In fact only one day a week is - MONDAY!

Sure, some days are harder than others (such is life), some days I want to sell Jim (he is 3 after all) on Feebay and some day's I want to lock myself in my room and have a good old cry, but mostly I find being at home pretty easy and for a good portion of my day I am able to dictate and control the events which occur around me. There are no Ministerial reports to be written, articles to be actioned for the media, investigations to pursue, arses to kiss, butts to wipe (Oh wait, yes there are). You get the idea though.

Well today as I sat in my uncomfortable chair, thinking about how much fun Muscle Man was probably having with Jim and Bob at home, and wondering when I'd fit my run in, I realised, this is life - again! This is the daily grind, and just like before, I have to schedule in time to run, time to exercise, time to make my healthy snacks and lunches, dinner menus on the go and clothes laid out, or in my worst case scenario - ironed - the night before work.

Yes, I am back to living in the land of the Weight Watchers motto:

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail!

Well, I'll be damned if I am a failure! No way, no how. Anyone who knows me will tell you I am a perfectionist (with the exception of housework) and once I make my mind up to do something, I generally do. In this case, my mind is made up to continue my exercise daily and manage a busy work and home life whilst trying (usually in vain) to achieve some balance.

So, the last two evenings after work I've come home, kissed all my boys, listened to tidbits on their enthralling and relaxing day (yes, I am jealous) as I strip my suit pants and jacket off, unzip my boots, change into my sports bra and proceed to grab my singlet and jogging pants. "Follow me and keep talking" is a common saying in my household. Muscle Man has been known to stand beside the treadmill, regaling me with anecdotes from his day whilst I slog out my 30 minute run and remind myself the benefits of making the time to do so.

Tonight I am going to soak in the tub and try and remind myself that after work is the daily grind of making time to exercise when all I feel like doing is begging Muscle Man for a foot rub, but tomorrow morning as I arrive at work I'll have the opportunity to drink the Arabica coffee beans and start all over again - hey, at least I am a fit and fabulous working Mum right? ;o)

My new dream accessory - Carson Kressley

2008-06-30T02:38:00.000-07:00

Firstly, I'll spare you all the boring and mundane details regarding our phone and Internet connection, but let me say this - I hope it's possible to burn calories through anger (well, hey, if you can through typing then surely cursing at Telstra and stomping ones foot does also). Sadly, the interim fix is still only short term, dial-up connection, so the speed at which the Internet is running is fuelling frustration also (excellent, I've burnt 10 calories in anger today and 400 running!).

Before our phone line was so rudely interrupted and subsequently affected our Internet connection, I had been blogging about Carson Kressley (Queer Eye for the Straight Guy). I saw a brief segment on Oprah last week where she was doing a little expose of Carson's latest TV show - How to Look Good Naked.

Oooh, I love Carson!! I was watching the show and wishing I could have a handbag sized, personalised Carson to take me with on shopping trips and whip out whenever my confidence is low and needs refuelling with a little 'pep-talk' from the Queen himself. I envision he'd give me a brief slap upside the head before telling me how fabulous and stylish I was, not to mention how great my butt looks in those jeans today now that there is only two cheeks, not 4.

In my fantasy Carson would deck me out with lavish clothes (paid for by anyone but me), trendy hand bags, sexy shoes, snazzy belts, and a well fitted bust enhancing bra. Naturally, thanks to his styling skills and the token makeover, I'd look 2 sizes smaller, have sensational makeup and a bust I could once again see without the use of a magnifying glass. Once completed I'd pack my pint sized little Carson back into my handbag and keep him safe for the next rainy day.

Watching snippets from a show titled "How to Look Good Naked" got me thinking about my previous entry (What's the Goal) and my frustrations over all the many imperfections I am yet to feel completely at peace with. The main one being my mid-section. I must admit I am still largely undecided about the effort I am willing to put in at the moment. It's not that I don't want the flat stomach and perky butt - I SO DO - but I think I need to realise that I also want to learn how to be more content with the body I've got, and learn to feel genuinely sexy in my skin (yes, even the excess flap). I think I need to somehow learn to find peace with the imperfections on at least a semi-regular basis.

Cue my plan to pay a visit to a Rebel Sport outlet where I have hopes of purchasing a fabulous at home Yoga DVD! Surely being able to fold myself into a pretzel with the flexibility of a Circ De Solei performer will make up for the lack of a discernible six-pack (the abdominal kind- although the beverage would be appealing right now) and also provide some inner "shalom" peace, right? Either that or I'll master the down dog at last.

I am still planning to run almost daily and lift weights 2-3 times through the week, but I think it's time to mix things up a little. All this thought has posed the following questions for me this week:

1: Am I still enjoying my exercise of choice? Do I feel the pay off?
2: Is it time to up the anti? To increase the speed, distance, quantity?
3: Am I brave enough to try something new? To push out of the comfort zone and take a challenge?
4: What are my NEW goals?

What would your answers to the above be?

Oh, and on the Yoga front, if anyone has any suggestions for a good at home "Yoga for Dummies" DVD let me know :o)

I'm Alive

2008-06-28T06:03:00.000-07:00

Faithful blog readers,

I'm alive and have not forgotten you. Our home net connection is down until Monday (am blogging from Nadi's). I will be back on Monday ASAP to blog my next update!! Exercise and weight loss continue to be as consuming as ever!!

Will be back Monday!!

Alf
xox

What's the Goal?

2008-06-21T23:41:00.000-07:00

Over the last few weeks I have been giving "goals" quite a bit of thought so naturally, it's time to pen (type) the thoughts (disclaimer: they are not pretty thoughts and at times are completely self-indulgent - read on at own risk).

When I first started on my Fat to Fab expedition, my goal was simple. Lose weight (ta da). I even specified a goal weight 7kgs heavier than what I really needed to lose, just to ensure it was achievable. Truth be told, even then I actually did not think I could really achieve that goal! Sure, I desperately wanted to lose that weight, and more, but at that point in time I was so heavily cloaked in desperation that I would have settled for five, or at best 10 kilos. Anything beyond that was merely a bonus.

Well to my own applause, and amazement at times, I am sitting here now having achieved that goal and then some. HURRAH! However, despite the distance I have come, and the weight I have lost, I am still not quite satisfied. I find myself wondering if I truly ever will be, or will there to some degree always be flaws? New goals to consider? Pregnancy weight to loose? Cellulite on my bum? A lingering love handle....?

In my dreams (and so far only in my dreams) I have a washboard stomach so tight and toned that white shirts really are the new black. I have a tight and perky butt not an inch of cellulite to be seen, toned and slender thighs with that perfect muscular groove which signifies my athletic prowess, perfectly slender and toned arms without an inch of anything resembling a tuck-shop lady. When I flex, my muscles bulge (feminine like of course) and my whole body is tight enough to crack an egg on - and if I so desired, I could pull off swimmers - of any kind - in public!

The problem with this dream however (aside from the painstakingly obvious fact it is a dream), is that I am actually not 100% sure if I want to put in the effort it requires. I am not sure if I want to make the sacrifices needed to see these things become a reality. I am not sure if I can be arsed! (I am suffering from a lot of 'can't be arsedness' lately - the house looks like something fresh out of Baghdad as an example).

I know for so many people, simply losing weight and fitting into smaller clothes, picked straight off the rack, is the goal. And let's be honest, it's an awesome, self-satisfying, confidence boosting goal. Certainly not one to be sneezed at. I still get a buzz when I grab pants or tops straight off the rack in sizes small and medium and they not only fit, but they look good! It's a joy not to have to lie down on the change room floor and breathe in before using the wall as leverage to pull a pair of pants on.

The problem is however, now that I have essentially reached that goal, I am not sure where to go from here? I'll admit that at times my exercise regime is really only enough to sustain my lavish wine & cheese addiction (herein lies the problem). I know that at times I jog purely so I can enjoy dinner out with friends, or Muscle Man, without the conscious thoughts of the calories I consume. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy eating food I want, when I want, but in all honesty, it's only because I work my arse off that I can enjoy indulgent food without the lingering fear that tomorrow I might wake up with a 3rd butt cheek and a fat roll under my knee (HUGE irrational fear of mine).

It's funny you know, when I started this weight loss caper, I assumed that once the weight was off, I'd be able to hang up (or burn) the towel and the sweat bands and relish in my new found slenderness; whilst laying on the couch and watching day time TV. I was so very wrong.

Sure, many, many people can and do lose astronomical amounts of weight and maintain a leisurely lifestyle when it comes to exercise. Walking the dogs of an evening whilst having a gossip session with friends, a bike ride around the local bike paths with kids in tow, kicking a ball around the park. Trust me, these are all sensational forms of exercise and absolutely worthwhile, but some days as I am slogging out my 7kms on my treadmill (or the local footpaths), sweat beading off every surface and my breath coming hard and fast, I wonder what would happen if I stopped this? If I decided I'd had enough, I simply couldn't be arsed anymore.

My suspicion is that A) I'd be miserable! As much as some days I moan and carry on about jogging, (bitching about running, the entire run is common for me), the satisfaction and endorphins afterwards are entirely worth it. I also strongly believe it's this form of exercise that sees me get through each day without tying Jim to the wall with duct-tape Ala this style (boy oh boy that looks appealing).

and B) I think I would consume more calories than I'd be burning and therefore I have horrifying visions of having to drag the "fat pants" out of moth balls! That and the fat roll beneath the knee. *shudder*

Please don't get me wrong, I am still aware of the effort I put in every day and the changes I have made, but I am equally aware that it's also time to up the anti (again!! DAMN IT) if I want to push past this barrier and achieve the 'in my dreams' goals.

The question is, do I really want to? Can I really be bothered? Do I have it in me? Can I be arsed?

I guess stay tuned and we shall see!

******

**Muscle Man and I did not run the fun run! We opted for family brunch instead (I begged, he obliged). None the less, we ran around the lake this afternoon (7.3kms) and will probably send off a little donation to the cancer council to make up for what was no doubt our noticeable absence (*snort*).

Bob on a Blob

2008-06-19T17:35:00.000-07:00

When I was about 13, Sexy Twin, myself and a good friend of ours had this brilliant idea! We decided we'd make, and bury, a time capsule (see, brilliant!).

I can't recall why we had this little stroke of genius, but I recall vividly the teenage excitement that comes from an idea you are convinced is the best in the World! There was squealing, giggling and lots of "Right, let's do this".

We set about collecting the items we would bury as our hidden treasure. We included Hubba Bubba bubble gum (ahh, such childhood memories), Tazo's (you know, the ones that came inside chip packets), a 50c stamp, a bus ticket (wow, we were creative), a photo of the three of us, a nice wordy letter to the lucky (indeed) finders of our capsule, and a lock of each of our hair.

Sexy Twin and friend plucked one tiny little tendril of hair, tied a delicate ribbon around it and placed it in our capsule (which was a Twinning tea tin by the way). I on the other hand, always trying to get a laugh, even at my own expense, lopped off half my ponytail (it was actually an accident). As I stood in front of the mirror holding a large chunk of my hair, I began to wonder what my long hair would look like short? Well, anyone who knows me will tell you, I am the horse that can be led to water AND made to drink. I'll take up a dare faster than you can issue a physical challenge, and if I think laughter is involved, I'll dare myself. So, when Sexy Twin and friend suggested we cut my hair off, I giggled and said "Heck, let's do it".

Half an hour later my so called sister and friend were writhing around on the floor, amidst strands of my hair, in peals of laughter. Meanwhile I was sitting in front of the mirror crying and laughing at the same time. The left side of my hair was sitting flush to my ear and the right side was still mid way down my back. Apparently the look was so funny my hairdressers could not even continue the task. After a further 20 minutes of laughter, friend again began the chop. This scenario continued for quite some time.

After the final strand had been cut and the tears of laughter (theirs) and the tears of distress (mine) were wiped from our eyes, we assessed the finished product. Sexy twin and I were no longer identical twins, we were now fraternal uni-sex twins. She being the girl, and me the boy! Luckily I am a good sport and within a few short months all was forgiven and I had begun to adjust to my crew-cut.

Last Friday I decided it was time for a change. I was booked in for a colour with Angel and decided that maybe, just maybe, I should be brave and lop the locks! My hair was the longest it has ever been and in some small way seemed reflective of my weight loss journey. Ever since my scarring haircut at the tender age of 13, I had kept my hair relatively short. In College I sported a bob (which Muscle Man called the Bob on a Blob - lucky I love him!). After College my hair was still only touching my shoulders, and for much of the last 6 or so years it had been no longer than this length.

Yes, somehow my long hair signified the changes in me. The changes in my weight. I think unintentionally I had concluded that I couldn't have long hair as I was not skinny enough to pull off the long blonde tresses Sexy Twin did, and has for the majority of our lives. I had unintentionally decided that short hair was suitable for me, and that the "Bob on the Blob" was exactly how I felt.

After much thought, and open discussion with relative strangers on the Essential Baby website, I decided I would probably cut my hair. Sitting in the chair at Angel's salon I decided to risk it. It's only hair right!? A few hours later I left the salon and burst into tears. Angel did a brilliant job. The colour was perfect, the cut sheek, yet all I could see was remnants of my past. The big girl sporting the short hair.

I call these my "Fat goggles". We've all heard of the beer goggles but how many of us acknowledge that we also, at times, look at ourselves through Fat goggles? We see ourselves entirely different to others, or indeed to the simple reality of how we really look. I look in the mirror and see a bulging and intrusive curve where my waist meets my hips. Muscle Man looks at the same spot and sees his sexy wife with a gorgeous curvaceous body. As he'd say - curves in all the right places. I look at my new short do and see glimpses of unhappy times. Times where my cheeks were so big they gave my blow dried and pooffed up hair a run for it's volumising money. Times where I slumped around wearing Muscle Man's giant jumpers and tracksuit pants to hide the bulges. Times where my head was a little blonde bob on a round and 'lumpy' body.

Yes, my fat goggles at times live on. But, as I learn to style and love my hair cut, I am also learning to acknowledge these past feelings and thoughts, ponder them for a minute, feel the emotions that came with them and then gently release them (who am I kidding, they are getting an arse kicking to the curb). After all, I am NO longer a bob on a blob!

*** I should add - the time capsule was burried, well over 10 years ago now. I think houses were built on the spot, so a perfectly good packet of grape Hubba Bubba went to waste!

*** OK, here's a pic since you asked so nicely. It's not as short as it could be - but I had roughly 20cm chopped, if not more :o)

I'm being Published!!

2008-06-17T23:39:00.000-07:00

OK, OK, so that is a gross exaggeration, but hey, it's my blog and I'll lie if I want to!

Truth be told though, I received an email today from a lovely women over at Readers Digest, advising me that a comment I emailed in response to an article in the June edition of HEALTH SMART magazine is being printed in their next publication!

Muscle Man's first response was "Cool, do you get paid". My response "No dear, this is not the Mere Male section in the Women's Weekly, but if you want a cash payment for my thoughts, give me some ammunition".

Anyway, the email prompted me to re-read the article and familiarise myself with why I liked it enough to send off one of those sappy "I simply love your magazine" emails. You know the kind, dripping with sweet insincerity and unashamedly pleading for the letter of the month prize - which let's face it - am I the only one who is totally over Avon's Anew line?

Anyway, the article, titled "Scare Tactics" by Jean Kitson was an amusing, honest and witty diatribe (no wonder I loved it). I'll quote some hilarity below.

...I have a health regime of gym three times a week, followed by coffee. Sometimes, (isn't modern life busy) I go straight to coffee, which is where my gym buddy found me wondering what more I could do to improve my health.
She laughed so much she had to bend over and cross her legs.
"Your favourite exercise is sleeping in. You think a balanced diet is if your coffee and chocolate croissant don't slip off your tray. You forget to eat lunch and you always have more than one glass of wine with your dinner, which is often pork spare ribs".
I was gobsmacked!
This mockery came from a women who eats for breakfast homemade organic Bircher muesli with hand-ground organic almonds and chopped organic apple, with a cup of organic echinacea tea! Her colon may have biceps, her naval actually makes contact with her backbone when she smiles, and she looks younger than her teenage daughter, but I don't call her attitude healthy.
...I blame her false sense of superiority on the health-scare industry, specifically the "food frighteners" division.
...I work with an otherwise sane women, who puzzles me. There isn't a food group this women hasn't given up in a panic at some time or other,
and taken up again in a panic when she needed it to stay alive. She's dropped carbs, taken up nothing but carbs, dropped carbs between 3.45am and 3.58am, but only under a full moon after sacrificing a goat.
Her food pyramid consists of a vast monolith of fear with a tiny topping of loathing.
We need a healthy balance in our thinking about diet. ...For all the billions of alarming words written about health, and all the government scare campaigns and witch-hunts and glossy guilt trips, they have collectively DONE BUGGER ALL to improve the health of Australians.
They do have some impact. Many health promotions have led to anxiety, neuroses, anorexia, bulimia, depression, poor self-image, malnutrition, scurvy, binge eating, seven sorts of fatigue syndrome, and mountains of untouched little plastic salads in McDonald's.
...diet has become such an obsession that we can't go out for a meal without weighing up the kilojoules, cholesterol, fat and sugar content, and regarding the menu as a personal insult.
There is even a health promotion day warning us against health promotions. It's called 'International No Diet Day'. You can just hear people in Somalia or Congo saying, "International No Diet Day? What, again?".
Why don't we just lighten up and call it Why Not Pig Out Day? or Eat whatever You Like Day? or simply Binge Day? I'll tell you, it's because the food frighteners don't want us to lighten up, in any sense, or we might realise that there is no goblin lurking in the fridge that we cannot cheerfully, personally, control.

This is only a small extract of this fabulous article. To read more you might have to spend 10 minutes in the newsagents pretending to scan the magazines whilst you read this article (page 74). You could be incidentally squeezing your butt cheeks together at the same time - which I have read is great for toning your derriere (wish I could personally vouch for it's success, but alas, no butt squeezing in newsagents for me - trust me though, I NEED TO!).

I can't really for the life of me recall what my exact response was but I am confident it was along the lines of "Great article, loved it, can I have some Avon Anew please?".

With all sincerity though, I did think it was a great read. We are a society that is driven by the latest "diet", or the need to "diet". Surely, any recognition that we need to relax and focus on a healthy LIFESTYLE is worth a veiled attempt at "Letter of the Month" right? :o)

Disclaimer: Health Smart magazine offers no prize for letter of the month (tight arses).

Incidental Exercise

2008-06-15T23:23:00.000-07:00

Before I start this entry I just wanted to say a HUGE thank you for all the amazing and humbling comments which have been left on my blog! I really appreciate it and they mean a great deal to me :)

My cousin (Dad's-sisters-daughter for anyone who cared to know) is a dietitian. Whilst she was completing her 6 week practical experience at the local hospital before her final graduation, she stayed with Muscle Man and I. Neither Jim or Bob were on the scene at this stage so it was a leisurely 6 weeks of 'wine time' after work, where 'cuz' and I would sit back with a plate of cheese, biscuits, olives, salami and a glass of chardy and talk about our days (all whilst barking orders at Muscle Man to "hurry up" with dinner - or the peeled grapes and palm frond - whichever came first!).

I spent hours quizzing her on aspects of her work, healthy eating, nutrition, allergies, and so forth. I think on a sub-conscious level I was hoping that merely talking with her would suck the excess fat right off me and evaporate it into the ether (clutching at straws much).

One of the things she mentioned during wine time, which has always stuck with me was in regards to 'incidental' exercise. Cousin pointed out to me (twas probably a subtle hint) that realistically there are times during each day, for all of us, where we can be incidentally attempting to tone our butt, tighten our abs and shed the fat; all whilst sipping on a latte and chatting on our mobile phones. Sadly though I am not referring to the little electronic nodes you can attach to your tummy ala: Kath & Kim to jiggle your way to a 6 pack (if only!).

At the time I poo-poohed this notion as I wrapped an olive in a slice of salami, covered each side with a piece of cheese before proceeding to add two layers of jatz biscuits to make a sandwich. Through a full mouth I cynically muttered "Yeah right cuz" and poured myself another wine.

We've all heard it right. At Weight Watchers meetings they casually slip it into every talk, A Current Affair and other such reputable shows (ahem) have a segment on it weekly, Dr Phil's diet book refers to it, even midwives suggest it (OK, they are talking about different muscles, but those ones require tone too). Incidental Exercise!

The suggestions to park the car further away, dabble in the garden, kick a ball around with the kids, take the stairs instead of the lift, hop off the bus or train a few stops before your usual drop off, go shopping (hey, I like this one). I realise it sounds trite, but I do believe that for many of us (myself included) this is the place to start.

As much as we all wish we could be naturally athletic and svelte with the ability to rest our entire body weight on the tip of our thumb (or is that just me?) sadly, some just aren't, and possibly never will be. When I first started to battle the bulge I would convince myself that walking 20 metres (and that is exaggerating) out my front door, to check my mail counted as my daily exercise. Talking on the phone, or typing emails counted too!

In all honesty though I did start taking the stairs, and on my many shopping expeditions I would find myself walking to the travellator at the opposite end of the mall in an attempt to get the heart rate past 80 beats per minute (my resting heart rate is about 70).

Even though I post in jest regarding hanging washing on the line and shopping, I am actually serious. We all know that at some stage the 'anti' has to be upped, but when you are starting out, walking from the car to work (rather than having your own Muscle Man drop you at the front entrance as I did), or taking stairs instead of the lift - is upping the anti!

So, for anyone who has not started with the Olympic marathon training (raises hand), and for anyone who is focusing on food choices as step number one (great work), let me encourage you to make some time each day for some incidental exercise. Oh and yes, sex counts!

********

On a side note, Muscle Man and I are joining some friends of ours this coming Saturday for a 5 or 10km fun run (haven't decided which as yet) to raise money for some random charity (must be important). Muscle Man has assured me he will pull his weight and push the pram at least half the distance. Usually I get stuck with the cumbersome thing for most of the 'family' jogs we partake together. He has also assured me he will not bleat at me like a ewe to keep up with his pace (which is a laugh as usually I slow up for him). I kindly reminded him his forte is lifting large pieces of aluminium and steel at the gym - not carving up the local footpath - he went silent!

I must admit though, I am super excited we are doing this one together and I am even more excited that after my personal successes in the Mothers Day Classic I am still keen for more rather than taking my bat and ball after my one good inning! :o)

Will let you all know how I/we go after the event (oh, and I'll blog again before then too).

My Rest Day!

2008-06-12T02:06:00.000-07:00

I have a confession.........I'm a terrible fat-to-fab-Mamma at heart!

It's hard for me to write this here, it's hard for me to admit that at times, I too struggle with healthy eating and exercise. Hard to admit how much I still love the 'empty' calories in a glass or two of wine. How much I love real buttered popcorn and cream sauce based pasta! How much I enjoy slothing around the house in my pyjamas without a scrap of makeup and a great book in hand. (OK, I lie, I have a scrap of makeup on).

As much as I love the feeling I get after running, or lifting weights, the feelings generally come AFTER or part-way through. Until then it's a damn hard slog. Physically and mentally!

Meanwhile, a superb Merlot can be enjoyed the minute you open the bottle and get that initial waft of fermented grapes tinged with a hint of oaky spice. Or the second you walk into the movie theatre and feel the salty aroma of fresh popcorn smothered in butter and salt, tickling your senses and arousing your taste buds. They require little effort and can in many cases provide instantaneous comfort! Sadly though, they won't keep you fit!

It's funny you know, I used to see myself as a fat girl with a skinny one trapped inside. I knew that deep down, if you waded through the oceans of fat, I had a skinny me just dying to be unleashed. Dying to take my fat arse shopping, and dying to demonstrate self-control when faced with situations where I invariably let loose and would have my cake AND eat it too!

Now days I sometimes feel like I have a fat chick inside dying to let loose and gorge everything within a 5 mile radius! Dying to take a whole week (I lie, try a month - or a lifetime) off exercise, guilt free. Dying to justify being lazy and spending my days lounging around the house as I enjoy all the forbidden foods (and then try and blame it on a snake....or a male).

Tonight I have a confession......I donned my kompressors (hmmm, do I admit this.....compression based Lycra leggings which enable faster recovery after weight lifting and running - geek, I know!). My sweat bands were on, the treadmill was rolled into place and I had shipped Muscle Man, Jim and Bob out the door so I could get a 30 minute run without the interruption of family (more like so they don't see my arse bounce as I run). My iPod was charged, my favourite DVD series (Desperate Housewives) was in the player, and subtitles on. Yes, I was set to go.

Not 3 minutes into my run, I turned the 'mill off, folded it up, packed it away and sent Muscle Man a text message asking him to return as soon as possible with a bottle of Merlot, a movie and something for dessert!

Each time I have talked about "self-talk" I too need to take stock. I must admit that my self-talk these day's, whilst kinder, is also unrelenting when it comes to exercise. I find it quite hard at times to allow myself a 'rest-day', or treats without guilt. I am working on it though (easier said with a delish glass of wine in hand).

So, next time you have one of those days where you (like me) reach for the Merlot instead of the sweat bands, remind yourself it's OK because you'll hit the ground running tomorrow and some treats are simply to good to resist. Especially when you've earned them!

My Light Bulbs (For Nayes)

2008-06-10T00:01:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I have had many 'light-bulb' moments.

Seeing photos of myself and realising I had barely fit in the frame of the lens, trying in vain to make my favourite pair of pants fit, seeing my refection in the shop window's at the local mall, having mirrored wardrobes in our bedroom...

Yep, there were many times where I had the "I have to lose weight' bulb go off. Sadly though, thinking it, and acting on it were two different things for me.

I, like so many others, suffered from "I'm gonna" syndrome. All talk and no action. Each new diet would begin with a list of "I'm gonna's". I am going to eat less today. I am going to exercise. I am not going to eat chocolate. I am going to be kinder to myself. I am going to eat more fruit and veg. Yep, so often it was all talk and no action.

So, how did the light switch finally stay on you may ask. You know, it's amazing for me to think about also. At times I really am just so shocked that I finally did succeed. Even when I started my journey to weight loss, better health (and habits) in June 2006, I still didn't actually think I would succeed. I desperately wanted too, but then I can honestly say I had desperately wanted too prior to that moment also, and failed. I simply assumed I would fail again.

I think for me, buying my treadmill was honestly one of the biggest factors in my choice to get serious about battling the bulge. It was such a vivid reminder each day. I'd walk into the lounge room and my treadmill would be staring at me. Calling for me to use it. To grease the belt, to wear tread marks in the mat. To push myself to my limits, and maybe one day wear the motor out from all the kilometres I'd walk/run to get into shape. I couldn't ignore the blatantly obvious fact, I no longer had a valid (were they ever) excuse to not exercise.

When I began making changes in June, I kept a journal. At the time my journal, alongside the treadmill, were my lifelines. They were the two things which reminded me each and every day that I was trying to make a difference, and I owed it to myself (and Muscle Man's bonus - which bought the 'mill) to make this work.

Each day I would write the following headings and record my thoughts/actions/intake in regards to each:

Food

Mood

Challenges

Exercise

Beverage Consumption (yep, I even wrote beverage - not just water - allowing for the vino!).

***********

Diary entry - Day 1 - 06 June, 2006

Challenges:

Actually getting on the bloody treadmill. I DON'T want to exercise. I want to wake up tomorrow and simply be the skinny girl I know is inside. THIS SUCKS!

***********

Diary entry - 11 June, 2006

This bites. Not even a week in and I am over it. Would love to drive to Hungry Jack's and chow down a Whopper burger, washed down with a Junior Whopper, and finished off with a caramel sundae. However, I have made smarter food choices and will continue to try too.

No exercise today. Can't be arsed.

**********

Diary Entry - June 14, 2006

Feeling better today. Walked on the treadmill for an hour yesterday. Still look the size of an Island but I am determined to make it a tiny one. According to 'A La Google' the World's smallest Island is called "Bishop Rock Island". They have standing room only on this Island. Yep, that's my new goal! Standing room only!

**********

Diary Entry - July 04, 2006

OK, so I got lazy with filling in my food diary :o) I've still been pretty good though (with the exception of cream based cocktails out with the girls on the weekend. Not to mention the drunken stop over at the Pizza van, and the token, must have, 'night out on town' kebab!). I've been exercising pretty much every day and am starting to feel so much better for it. I can already feel the difference in my energy levels.

Have my period at the moment so am feeling rather bloated and ergh! Determined to stay on track though and not resort to my typical monthly comfort binge.

Goals as follows: Sisters wedding. Yummy Mummy. Better pregnancy than Jim, and to be the size of Bishop Island!

***********

A typical day for me before June 2006, included foods such as hamburgers, chips, milkshakes, anything deep fried, portion overload, and everything with sugar or salt added. These days I eat foods such as the following:

Breakfast:
2 slices multi-grain toast with 2 poached eggs. No butter, pinch of salt.
2 slices multi-grain toast with thin spread of butter and Vegemite

1 cup of high fibre cereal (I try and get the ones with the least added sugar)

1 cup of cooked oats with a sprinkle of brown sugar or chopped banana and honey

Fruit smoothie. 1 Cup low fat milk, 2 tbs yogurt, sprinkle of cinnamon, 1tsp vanilla essence, 2tbs All Bran, 1 tbs honey, 1/2 cup of frozen mixed berries, or a banana.

Morning snack:
Fruit (either fresh or tinned)
Yogurt (I don't even bother with the low fat stuff - give me dairy farmers any day)
Vita wheat biscuits with low fat cheese (any savoury biscuits will do really)
1 serve of popcorn (You can buy the individual microwave portion sizes in packets of 5)
Handful of almonds and dried fruit
Celery or carrot sticks with tomato salsa or homus
Low fat muffin (I generally prefer the savoury option -will post a recipe for a spinach and feta one)
1 slice bread or toast with topping (i.e low fat cheese/jam/lite peanut butter)
Tin of tuna or salmon

* Depending on what I choose from the above list, I may have more than one item listed.

Lunch:
Multi-grain sandwich with meat and salad - ham, turkey, chicken. 1 tsp chutney or low fat mayo, or thin spread of margarine
Tuna or salmon salad (I make the garden salad and then mix tuna or salmon through and drizzle with balsamic or any oil free dressing)
2-3 Ryvita with sliced tomato, ham and low fat cheese
2-3 Ryvita with cream cheese (lite), tomato and cracked pepper
Steamed veggies with tuna or salmon (surprisingly mixing a tin of tuna through steamed peas and corn is really good)
I usually eat a piece of fruit with lunch each day.

Afternoon Snack:

Same as morning. If I am really hungry I will focus on the low GI foods - almonds, brown rice (90 second microwave stuff is fab), multi-grain vita wheat's etc.

Dinner:
Steamed fish and veggies (the birds eye microwave fish are great and taste surprisingly good when mixed through a garden salad or served on top).
Grilled or baked chicken with veggies or salad
Low fat lasagna (instead of cheese in each layer I use low fat ricotta and only cheese on the last layer)
Slow cooked meals like stews, apricot chicken, soups.
Homemade beef burgers with salad on wholemeal/multi-grain bread or rolls
Tuna casseroles
Grilled steak with veggies or salad

After dinner snack:
Weigh watchers chocolate mousse or ice-cream
home made low fat scone (my recipe uses no butter and wholemeal flour)
anything from the morning or afternoon snack list

Throughout the day I drink water, cordial, tea and coffee.

To be honest, when it came to the final 'light-bulb' I just knew I HAD to make it stay on. Younger sisters wedding certainly provided some inspiration I should add. The thought of being the "fat" bridesmaid was enough to scare me into submission.

I highly recommend keeping a journal to record and reflect your food intake, your exercise and the challenges you face. Over time, I'll post more of my reflections. Some make me cringe, some make me want to slap myself upside the head and have a mental hug at the same time, and others, well they simply make me laugh :o)

The trick is making the choice to switch your light bulb on and believing in yourself enough to let it glow!

My Favourite Low -Fat Winter Soup Recipe

2008-06-08T02:26:00.000-07:00

OK, so as requested, here is my first recipe.

This is the perfect low-fat, healthy, vegetarian soup to warm up with on those winter days! It's also very filling unlike the 'soup diet' versions!

Red Lentil & Vegie Soup

1 tbs olive oil
1 onion finely chopped
1 carrot finely chopped
1 celery stick finely chopped
1 parsnip chopped (like potato salad chunks)
1 clove garlic crushed
1/2 tsp cumin powder or seeds
2/3 cup red lentils
3 cups stock or water (any stock is fine/as is water)
salt/pepper to taste
1 tbs lemon juice

Throw ALL ingredients in a saucepan (or slow cooker) and leave to simmer for 40-60 minutes! When I make this soup I actually use about 3x's the ingredients listed above :)

Yep, this one is a fav!

Self-talk (For Judi)

2008-06-05T23:34:00.000-07:00

We all do it. Some positive, some negative. I spent many years (and still do at times) criticising my self and down-playing my abilities on a regular basis.

To be honest, for me, my success with weight loss and my new active lifestyle, have everything to do with the way I changed my self-talk.

To anyone looking at me, they would have seen what I portrayed. I have always been vivacious, opinionated, LOUD and many times over my life I have appeared to exude confidence. There were also times where I genuinely have felt good about myself. My wedding day, my Yr 10 and 12 graduation formals, and the occasional night out on the town! All events involving some dutch courage I should add!

On the inside however I was constantly aware of my own flaws. My tuck shop arms, a butt that required it's own postcode, and cheeks that were giving a puffer fish a run for their money! I compensated for all these things by wearing big clothes, too much rouge on my cheeks, and long sleeves all the time.

I absolutely despised summer as it was the one season in the year where I felt like I couldn't hide my secret shame. I couldn't get away with wearing a trench coat in 38 degree heat without the consequence of heat stroke. Even though Muscle Man and I do not live near the beach, I'd go to great lengths to ensure we travelled there, or to any other body of water for that matter, as rarely as possible. Up until recently I've sported one thing in common with Nicole Kidman. Deathly pale skin. Yep, it simply never saw the light beneath the layers.

Who remembers that fashion trend a few years back where wearing anything resembling a pirate was tres cool?! You know, puffs and plooms were making their appearance on the catwalk and incidentally in our shops! I LOVED this fashion trend. Pirate shirts were a relative of the Kaftan, only one was momentarily socially acceptable. Well for this fleeting summer, I felt like I belonged. The satin poofs on the front of my latest Pirate Pete ensemble were an excellent guise for the fat rolls and donuts around my mid-section, and the puffy sleeves hid a myriad of flaws in my ever growing arms. Oh, and whilst I am taking a walk down fashion memory lane, how great were happy pants when it came to hiding the happy hips! Yes, good times!

I was chatting to Muscle Man and Sexy Twin about self talk recently, and Muscle Man reminded me that it took me the better half of a year to actually take stock and really acknowledge the extent to which I sabotaged myself. After all, he would know given he was really the only person I ever verbalised my self image issues too.

The poor guy would get home from work and walk in to find his wife with her head stuck in a bucket of ice-cream. Or worse still crumbs of food stashed around my shirt which I'd declare I was saving for later, horrified at the fact my daily binge had been discovered. Muscle Man would then spend the next 20 minutes assuring me I was not a fat slob, I was worthy, I was lovable, I wasn't the size of a blue or humpback whale.

All the while however his words were going in one ear and straight out the other. How could I absorb what he was saying when I didn't even begin to believe the words I heard.
Sadly I realised that it was I who had to change. I had to start telling myself those things Muscle Man was, even if I didn't believe them myself to begin with.

In one of my many attempts at frightening myself thin (if only) I wrote notes to myself (Yep, I did this often) and placed them in obvious places around the house. Sadly however these notes were not the "You can do it kind". No, they were the "You are a failure", "You are so fat", "You don't deserve to be happy or confident". I realise now that this was the exact reason I did FAIL every time. I didn't even have an ounce of belief in my ability. Whatever belief I once possessed had been slowly, but surely and harshly stripped. I was 100% negative towards myself. I had nothing nice to say to Alfie at all.

I wish I could say that the change occurred quickly. I really do. Because then in some ways I'd feel better knowing that the quantity of time we spend berating ourselves might be less. Sadly though it comes down to breaking of a habit. A really bad habit.

So, how did I do it. Well, slowly. It would start with the smallest things. In the morning I would wake up and feel determined to eat well and shake my booty (yeah, well that happened even when I wasn't trying). By midday the negative thoughts would begin to creep in... "You can't do this, you have tried before. You failed then, and you will fail now". It took all my strength to retort with an aggressive backhand "Yes, you can". Within seconds the ball would be back in my court with another attack "eat the chocolate, eat the chocolate, eat the chocolate", again, I'd line the shot up and as fiercely as I wanted to succeed I would respond "No, eat the apple".

I guess in many ways it does come down to that little old word, choice! As much as self criticism had become an intrinsic part of me, I just simply did not want to believe that this was it. I was far too young to continue to allow my past failures to dictate my future successes. I simply had to choose to push myself out of the comfort zone and equip myself with the strength and belief to fight back each and every time I put myself down.

I have to be honest and say that for me, a driving force has also been the fact that as a parent I believe in parenting by example. In that regard I questioned my own ability to provide genuine confidence and healthy self esteem to my children, if I was unable to do the same for myself. Since having Jim and Bob I have become so much more attuned to the importance of teaching these basic, yet long-lasting principles. I had to lead by example. I had to learn to love myself.

On a simplistic level, I can suggest the following:

When you start to say to yourself "I can't" try and program yourself to instantly say "YES, I CAN". You may not believe it at first, but once you SEE that you can, the belief is self motivated. Not only CAN you, but you ARE!

When you start to reach for the food for comfort, find some substitutes that will still allow you the 'comfort' you may be craving. For example, my crutch - chocolate (whose isn't!). Until I had a handle on the emotional eating I replaced REAL chocolate with the fake stuff. Weight Watchers chocolate mousses, carob coated liquorice, a low fat hot chocolate. As much as it sucks to try indulge in something which contains a measly 2 points on the weight watchers points scale, the satisfaction that comes from knowing you chose the lesser of two evils is a self-belief booster in itself.

And my 3rd simplistic thought: Every morning you wake up tell yourself that YOU ARE WORTHY. YOU ARE CAPABLE. I challenge you to stand in front of your mirror and mouth these words to yourself. And each time you do, I want you to know that I also think you are worthy and capable. I really do.

I know the battle feels long but the ending is yours to claim victoriously. You just have to start.

Quizz Me

2008-06-04T00:06:00.000-07:00

Hello my faithful fab readers,

I apologise for the lapse in my blog over the last few days. Muscle Man is away on business again (Nardi is convinced he is an Air Marshall he travels so much) but alas, he is off gallivanting the country, wining and dining with clients, and overall having at least 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep in some posh hotel room. Damn him!

Meanwhile, I am at home with a cheeky 3 yr old who keeps telling me he is trying to "behave" (yeah right), a 7 month old who has his seventh tooth coming through, and a cat who is painstakingly annoying at any given time of the day! Again, damn him (Muscle Man that is).

I was pondering my blog earlier today (as I do) and was thinking that I am determined NOT to turn this into another "Dear Diary" style of writing (or reading). Some times my days are as boring as watching paint dry, and I simply can't bear to do myself, or you, an injustice by writing about such monotonous things. Imagine, it would read like this:

Dear Diary,

Today I woke up and ate a piece of multi-grain bread and a poached egg. Then I packed the dishwasher and in my usual state, being 'dazed and confused', I packed Bob in there alongside the dishes. Oops. After this I decided coffee was in order.

An hour later with coffee coursing through my veins, I decided to attempt to clean the house...an hour later I woke up in time for Dr Phil. Again, Oops.

This afternoon I managed to coax Jim into having a sleep (lured him into his room and then sprinted for the door before he could say "Mum, where are you going?" and jumped on my treadmill for a 45 minute run.

Then for dinner I ate 3 pieces of fish smothered in tarter sauce, a trough of salad, a dozen baked potatoes and a chocolate mousse for dessert.

Yes, all in all a good day (bar dinner, Bob in the dishwasher and the house in it's usual state).

End entry.

Yes, let's be honest, NO ONE wants to read that every day! I am almost cringing writing it!

Given my whole desire is to write about weight loss and the things which I find hard, the aspects which I enjoy, the "can't be arsed moments" I want to make sure each entry is worthy of reading and possibly provides a glimmer of inspiration along the way (Hmm is that self-serving I wonder?).

Anyway, with that in mind I thought maybe I would put it out there to you guys to give me some good suggestions, ideas, or even questions you may have regarding my thoughts and ideas on weight loss, exercise, goal setting...

If there are things you struggle with, questions regarding exercise routines, foods I eat, recipes I cook, movie reviews, my thoughts on Peter Everett and Global Warming - I'll answer (OK, with the execption of Global Warming).

And of course, if no one has any suggestions, that's cool too. I'll be back with own attempt at a witty diatribe rabbiting on about my journey from Fat to Fab!

Until then, keep taking those baby steps :o)

Just Do It!

2008-06-01T03:08:00.001-07:00

"Just Do It"- the Nike slogan! It's brilliant.

Over the past year, I've adopted my own personal motto; Motivation is fleeting, choice is constant.

For me, almost every diet or attempt at weight loss came with a preconceived expectation that motivation would follow. I was convinced that once day 1 was done and dusted the realisation I was capable would precede, and with it a shot of motivation like a cattle prod to the arse, undoubtedly spurring me on to become a svelte and self-controlled vixen. It never happened. Motivation never came.

Each diet would begin with the best of intentions. I would plan my meals and activities, write words of affirmation to myself and pin them around the house. The back of the toilet door covered in A4 paper reminding me I was worthy, and no longer desired thighs that bellowed over the seat and touched the floor when I sat down to pee. I'd write goals down and tape them to the bedroom mirror. Goals such as lose weight off my face so I can save money on foundation. The kitchen cupboard doors would be lined with reminders NOT to eat unless I was genuinely hungry, and even then to not hoover the contents like a trusty Dyson.

The start of the week would begin with desires to intentionally exercise 4 times a week minimum (the usual chocolate to lips bicep curl not counting). And naturally chocolate, chips and cheese were banned and indeed evicted from the house! Sadly, by midday of day 1, I'd have driven to the local shops and stocked up on all my 'banned items', exercise was non-existent and motivation nowhere to be found.

Motivation is a funny old thing, we all desire it for various, and often unappealing, activities. I have often lamented that if I could bottle the stuff I'd be somewhere on the Caribbean, cocktail in hand, liposuction and tummy tuck behind me, breast implants in front, and a bank account brimming with mula waiting to be spent. However, at this stage the only bottled motivation (aka: amphetamines) are illegal and the real (non-drug-induced) feeling can not be bottled or sold. Regretfully more often than not it is a fleeting feeling that if not acted on almost immediately, vacates before the opportunity has been plucked, possibly never to return again.

Every day I wake hoping that today will be the day I am motivated to clean, motivated to cook, motivated to sort Jim's cupboard out, and motivated to finally take my bag of "fat clothes" to the local Salvo's. The reality unfortunately being that I wake and morph into a sea lion who wants nothing more than a lazy day on the beach and the occasional swim.

So, what can you do when motivation has taken a long vacation, or perhaps never plans to visit in the first place? Well for me, I had to realise that motivation is a state of mind. It's a choice. Every day I am capable of making choices. Every day I am in control of the choices I make. Every day I can choose to strive for the right choices.

Muscle Man, Jim, Bob and I have had a very lazy day today. Muscle Man and I slothed about on the couch watching DVD's whilst the boys had their afternoon nap. Earlier in the day we deliberately went out for brunch so someone else could make our meals, and as usual, we left the house in the state it was in last week after cyclone Jim's latest encounter. The most productive thing I'd done by 3pm was to clean the dashboard of our car with a stray (unused) nappy wipe! So, naturally when Muscle Man toyed with the idea of jogging around the lake this afternoon, I laughed. The conversation went like this:

Muscle Man: Should we jog today babe?

Me: Ha ha ha ha ha ha you're so funny......oh, you mean it?

Muscle Man: Yep, why not. We probably should, don't you think?

Me: Hmmmmm, can you jog on my behalf for me, oh and whilst your at it, can you spend 30 minutes lifting weights, complete a decent set of Ab's workout, take the washing off the line, get dinner on the go, fold the nappies in the lounge, clean the car out, change the sheets on our bed, wash and dry my hair, shave my legs......

Muscle Man: No way, you can shave your own legs! I ain't touching those plaited, hairy, sticks of yours!

Me: You think my legs look like sticks? Yahoo, awesome, love ya babe! OK, let's get ready for that jog shall we.

And off we set! Rugging the kidlets up and grabbing our iPods we set off in our now nappy wipe scented car to the local lake, all the while Muscle Man and I having numerous thoughts about heading home and returning to our self declared grooves on the couches and the services of Pizza Hut online.

40 minutes later we were again back in the car, heading home, sweat beading of our faces and the car fogging up with the combination of extreme cold and humidity we were exuding from our strong and adrenalin fuelled bodies. As we neared home, I leaned into Muscle Man and said "Yep, choice, we have it EVERY day, motivation - never".

Kaftans and Camel Toes!

2008-05-29T01:19:00.000-07:00

Shopping - one of my least favourite past times. Put Simply, there was nothing fun about shopping for kaftan's, moomoo's and Bridget Jones style underwear. Naturally however, being a female, I possessed some inner oestrogen trigger working against me and conspiring to get me into the mall and swiping my credit card, despite the self-conscious resistance!

Being a bigger size and yet a younger girl, always made shopping challenging. In my minds eye I had visions of wearing hipster jeans, groovy belts, cleavage enticing shirts, perhaps even a beret (as if!). Sadly however, the best I could do was accessorise with shoes and handbags! Shoes were a given anti-depressant. When the groovy belt's didn't fit, I'd buy shoes instead. When the hipster Jeans made me look like a hippopotamus wearing a swim ring, I'd buy shoes. When the beret made me look like an overweight Britney Spears - I'd buy shoes!

Ironically I actually spent a few years working in a hip clothing store, Jeans West. We were required to wear the merchandise at each shift, not an easy feat when I had love handles spewing out the side of the "easy-fit, high waist" style jeans and was continually pulling my t-shirt out of it's desired resting place - my roll of back fat!

I was working with an eccentric gay man at the time who was a barrel of laughs and fun to boot - but had one major flaw - his fashion sense! Actually, it wasn't a flaw but more like one of his more endearing qualities. He was the exact kind of shopping companion one would want to have. Unless you were fat.

I would arrive at work 15 minutes before the start of my shift only to be reprimanded for wearing last season's fashions whilst sporting a muffin top, a camel toe and cankles all in the same outfit. After a dramatic display of shock and despair which would include fake tears, "why God Whys" and a paper bag for hyperventilation, "J" would set about trying to re-dress a dishevelled and self-conscious me, all the while cursing at my lack of fashion sense and my 'generous' curves. Sadly on more than one occasion I ended up wearing the men's clothes as J tried to pass me off as the store's "tom boy"! Basically I spent my hours looking like a butch version of him!

Needless to say I loathed shopping. Inevitably I would always end up wearing men's clothes or choosing an outfit so wrong for me I'd make an elephants hide look more attractive. I also happened to suffer from fashion/identity confusion. You know the syndrome where one day I'd be decked out entirely in sports gear, baggy pants, jumpers and joggers (clearly trying to give the illusion I was fit) and the next I'd be wearing a business suit from Jacqui E, heels and a french roll to match. I considered a shopping trip successful if I was able to find something which was in between the two styles and suited my age group - this happened very rarely. Some times I wore outfits which were so hideous and akin to Ma Kettle that I am surprised I couldn't attract a seniors discount! All the while my shoe collection was mounting.

When I started to lose weight I was delighted to learn I could shop in the standard section of Target rather than the maternity section. However, despite my shrinking body, my own visual image had not yet caught up and I would still instinctively reach for the large size clothes or anything with an elastic waist. I'd enter the fitting room, try my outfit on and realise with joy that it was simply to big. Reluctantly I would choose the smaller size and when game even choose a more garish item of clothing to try on. Rather than the turtle neck sweater I would sheepishly reach for a shirt with a plunging neck line. Rather than baggy pants, I would dare to consider something fitted, or even in moments of reckless abandon a dress or skirt!

I must admit I am still not accustomed to choosing smaller clothes. I still hesitate when I see size 12 and think, no I better grab the 14, or maybe even the 16! Despite my confidence I still have flashbacks of my tom boy days in Jeans West and freeze. The only thing I seem to know with surety despite having lost weight, is my bra size and it's so depressing it warrants a new pair of shoes anyway ;o)

Huey's Cooking Adventures

2008-05-26T22:46:00.001-07:00

OK, so am I the only one who finds it wrong on so many levels that a large man wearing suspenders and sporting a handlebar moustache has an afternoon time slot cooking relatively unhealthy foods?

As I was in the kitchen fixing myself a cup of tea (it's about as domestic as I get) I glanced at the TV, and there larger then life was Ian Hewitson with a dark blue shirt and a pair of flashy red suspenders. I would hedge bets that this guy has so many suspenders he could make the worlds largest sling shot and hopefully use it to sling himself away, and off our 3.30pm time slot!

Personally I think suspenders should be banned. My mother in law kindly bought Jim a pair (what a 3 year old needs suspenders for I have no idea). After thanking her for her kindness whilst simultaneously casting Muscle Man a bemused look, I conveniently 'lost' them in the back of his wardrobe. That is until last week in one of his many "Put me to bed hey, I'll show you and trash my room" episodes. Young Jim thought all his Christmases had come at once when he pulled from the cupboard all the lovely (*cough, cough*) things I've stashed in his wardrobe, including a pair of red suspenders!

Well in true 3 year old Dennis the Mennis form, he HAS been using them as a sling shot. Unlucky for him, the cat has not been a willing participant in these escapades. Needless to say, said suspenders are now residing at the top of MY cupboard. Muscle Man thinks they'd make great handcuffs, I think that's disturbing.

Anyway, back to Huey.

I seem to vaguely recall that Mr Hewitson was an advocate for Jenny Craig a few years ago. Another fact that has not been lost on me. Why would a chef who should have an intricate knowledge of healthy cuisine be relying on frozen space snack meals to lose weight? Ironic, surely. I mean, good on him for making lifestyle changes and advocating them, but surely he could achieve that by putting down the oil, or using his suspenders as a skipping rope.

Today I briefly watched him whip together some form of ragout (this word simply has to be said with a rolled rrrrrr and an ooooo sound at the end). Sure enough I watched as lashings of oil, butter, and salt were added. Unquestionably I am not the only one who would love to see healthy, easy meals, suitable for the family and fail-safe (for those like me who regularly burn tinned soup), made with fresh, wholesome ingredients.

Maybe it's not actually his cooking that bothers me so much (I mean, yes it is) but perhaps it is the suspenders. Perhaps it's his jovial "I laugh at my own jokes" manner, or perhaps it's his continual references to Mr Moon. Has anyone EVER seen Mr Moon? Who the heck is Mr Moon? You know, it could even be the manky tea towel which is used to wipe every plate, his hands, clean his suspenders from splash-back, and wipe the bread board.

It could even be the title! "Huey's Cooking Adventures". Let's be honest, there is nothing adventurous about his style of cooking. There is nothing adventurous about his locations. To me adventure would be cooking on the side of an active volcano, dangling a breast of chicken over the molten lava edge to get that smoke house taste (although I suspect smoulder would be the flavour of the day), whilst boiling some rice in a nearby hot spring and steaming asparagus at the same time. Yes, that would warrant the word 'Adventure' in the title.

I think in light of Huey's obvious flaws, it's high time I approached the prime time TV stations with a proposal;

"Alfie's low-fat, family friendly, freezer ready, fat to fabulous, fantastic foods!"

Never mind I can't cook. That's semantics.

Now, in the words of our social cooking example Ian Hewitson; "A dish without wine is an absolute crime, and pants without braces are simply disgraces"

* I made that up, but c'mon, we all know the guy likes a quote at the end of each show!!

My Other Lover

2008-05-26T00:39:00.000-07:00

In my pre-fab days my relationship with food was like a love affair. We were always sneaking around together, keeping our love a secret. I was hiding it in my handbag, my bedroom, my desk drawers at work, the glove compartment of the car. I usually had my lover stashed away somewhere easy to access and would devour it in private!

The sad thing is, our relationship was so one-sided. Here I was lovingly stroking and caressing my Cadbury dairy milk, crooning to my chocolate about how much I loved thee before ravishing the hell out of it and seductively licking the remnants off my mouth. Within moments however the feelings of love I had just languished on my bar of chocolate changed from sneaky bliss, to guilt and remorse.

Yep, just like an affair!

It's hard being a bigger person consuming food in public. Even if they are not, you assume people are staring at your choice of food. I'd be sitting at a table at the local food court with my all you can eat Chinese buffet piled so high on my plate that it been a precarious balancing act simply finding a table to scoff at without wearing half of it (that and the fact I couldn't see over the top of my plate).

I'd have lemon chicken, fried rice and spring rolls covering every available inch of my plate. Suddenly, sitting there with Singapore noodles hanging out of my mouth, and plum sauce splashes on my nose, I'd be all too aware that people around me were probably thinking "Look at that fat girl. Look at what she is eating. No wonder she is fat".

The self consciousness would set in and suddenly I'd feel sick to my stomach with my own image. Sadly however, even in times of immense humiliation like this, my affair was so great I'd simply continue eating, all the while telling myself I was just a failure with no will power so I may as well continue enjoying my fried beef in plum.

There were times where I would choose the healthy options. Salad rolls, sushi, subway 6 grams of fat or less, but even then I knew that once in the privacy of my home or car, I'd again return to the comforting arms of my non-judgemental friend, food. The full of saturated fats, let me add to your cottage cheese thighs, kinds of food.

Socially we have an enormous perception that in order to loose weight we need to DIET. To me the word 'diet' conjures up images of starvation, rules, fat pinching calipers, and eventually failure when eating a crouton for breakfast, lunch and dinner no longer suffices (as if it ever did).

Diets in most cases are so futile that we have even invented diets to try and disguise the fact it is a so called diet. Look at Atkins for example. Sure, there were no carbohydrates but there was BACON!! Fatty, crispy, artery clogging, salty and delicious bacon. SOLD! (As were three quarters of Americans. I'd add a great joke here about their intelligence but in this case it would apply to me also, so I'll save myself the personal sledge).

In addition to diets like this, there were also the crazy, guaranteed to shed kilos in a week diets; such as the 'soup diet'. All I ever saw anyone gain from the soup diet was a serious case of flatulence and a permanent aversion to cabbage, and soup.

I can't honestly tell you that my relationship with food is now perfect. It's not. In fact I know on a personal level I still have a way to go before I will be able to look at a bag of hot chips without curling up in the foetal position and rocking back and forth. It could be a little while yet before I can look at a block of chocolate and not get a twitch in my right eye, but for the most part I now make smarter choices. I am trying to live like the French. Not in the arrogance stakes, but certainly in the moderation.

I am NOT on a diet. I am simply making choices which will benefit me now and in the future.

These days when I think of lovingly ripping the wrapper off something, crooning with affection and languishing my love, I try and look for Muscle Man instead of a mars bar.

Muscle Man would like me to add at this point that I mustn't crave the above foods much because he is fairly convinced I never languish love, nor rip his clothes off.

Back Away from the Scales!

2008-05-23T22:26:00.000-07:00

If you are anything like me your relationship with the bathroom scales is one that is fraught with tension. One day they are your best friend, the next your worst enemy.

I must admit that over the years I have owned a few sets of scales. Some I have intentionally smashed to bits in fits of dieting rage, others have simply given up the ghost after having me stand on them multiple times a day. Some I deliberately set to be 5 kilograms lighter just to bolster my dying self-esteem (it never worked - I couldn't deceive myself).

Yes, I was one of those people who was obsessed with the number, the amount I weighed. I'd weigh myself before my morning pee, and again after just to double check that the extra kilo I'd gained in the last week wasn't fluid (urine) retention. I'd weigh myself in a variety of outfits, and of course in my birthday suit. I would weigh myself at the start and finish of a day and several times in between just for good measure. I would even go so far as to weigh myself in kilograms, pounds and stones just to see which was nicer! Stones of course! Yes, 12 stone sounded MUCH more respectable than 90 odd kilos!

Muscle Man: "What did the scales say today babe, same as an hour ago?"

Me: "cough, splutter, gulp...12"

Muscle Man: "What was that babe?, Did you say twelve? 12 what?"

Me: "On the twelve days of Christmas my true love gave to me" - cue me exiting room.

Muscle Man is brilliant at maths (I know, not just a set of muscles) and would come in 5 minutes later and think how clever he was that he had figured out my weight in kilograms! Damn him!

I guess you could say that the scales had a sick hold over me. I'd walk past the bathroom and see them taunting me, daring me to jump on and check if the fact I skipped breakfast and taken my shoes off had fashioned into weight loss yet. Being a gluten for punishment I would walk in and delicately place one foot on the scale followed by the other, holding my breath I'd peer down at the display window and pray for a miracle. The minute I saw the number flash up on the screen I'd feel instant despair and then spend the next half an hour berating myself for jumping on in the first instance and the rest of the day berating myself for being so fat to begin with.

The thing was though, I was never really doing anything that warranted the scales going down. Up, yes, down - no. More often than not I was not adequately modifying my food intake, and I was lucky to lift a finger, let alone my whole arse. I was very much of the mindset that one failed meal meant the entire day was an absolute right off and I may as well visit a few drive-thru's to console myself.

When I joined Jenny Craig the first time, I remember walking out after my first official 'weigh in' and sheepishly admitting to Muscle Man what the big digit was. I cried. The road to slenderness was just insurmountable. The scales were my enemy and had never even provided a glimmer of hope that we could be friends, even acquaintance's was pushing the limit in my mind. We had such an unhealthy relationship that I couldn't possibly imagine ever finding success standing on their harrowing surface. Yes, I was doomed. The only answer was to turn to my good friend, Baskin and Robbin's.

Years later when I joined Weight Watchers for the first of gazillion attempts with their program, I was again shocked to see the result. I had a momentary glimmer of hope as I stood on the old style chemist scales. You know the ones with the little weights that have to be slid along and balanced. Well, in my desperation I only looked at the number the smaller weight was resting on. 60kgs, EUREKA! I knew all along I suffered from Body Dysmorphic thing-a-mi-gigga and in that brief second I'd been thin all along. I was on top of the world, naturally within seconds I came crashing down when my flamboyant "leader" advised that the two weights combined put my weight at 85kgs. Off to Baskin and Robbin's.

I have come to believe that scales are evil. Even now some days I'll apparently weigh a kilo less than the day before, or reverse. I know that when a certain time of the month approaches and I grow horns and breathe fire, my weight can go up by as much as 3 kilos for that week. So on-top of being moody, hormonal, teary, angry, happy, hysterical at any given moment I also have to live with the fact that for a whole week I'm as bloated as a life preserver and it's not the kind of bloating a good old fart could fix. No this bloating requires that bloody Slim N Lift Supreme!

It's for this reason (inconsistent numbers, not my bloating) that I think it is really so important to use other measures to track your success. The way clothes fit and feel, the way your skin glows after exercise, the way your body moves more freely and one of my favourites, the measurements lost as the weight slowly, but surely comes off.

In an earlier blog entry I gave my initial body measurements. I started recording my measurements on June 14, 2006. Over the past 23 months I have lost a combined total of 113 cm's off my waist, hips, left and right upper arm, left and right thigh, and my left and right shin. That figure would probably be up around the 150cm mark had I measured my bust (another classic lie) but at the time it was really just far to distressing seeing the shrinkage in the one place I wanted excess fat!

I tried to comprehend 113cm's of extra size on myself the other week but all I could think of was 3.7 thirty centimetre rulers standing one atop the other and it reminded me of a liquorice strap, so naturally I went and ate something instead.

It is also very heartening that so many of my clothes are now too big rather than too small and some I could use on my next camping trip as a sleeping bag or tent. Even better add a spinica and rope and I have pants which would make an excellent sail. It's great to look in the mirror and only see a small muffin top these days rather than the whole bakery.

Now days I only stand on the scales intermittently and usually I am ready with a stash of carrot sticks to console me rather than the ice-cream. Oh not to mention I am always armed with the mental come back - Muscle weighs more than fat you know ;o)

Love is Blind

2008-05-22T00:09:00.000-07:00

So they say. Perhaps though this is partially true.

After yesterday's blog, Sexy Twin sent me an email which said; "Its crazy how skinny you are now, or how I never thought you were that big". Well, first and foremost HOORAY to being called "skinny" (I'll pay you later Twin) and secondly, how did she not see that I was so much bigger?

Sexy Twin is not the only person I know to have made these observations. Mum has also commented that I was "never really that big to start with". Compared to what, an elephant? 20 kilos is 20 kilos right. It's more weight than my 3 yr old and 7 month old combined. It's more weight than my enormous twin jogging pram (true story). It's even believe it or not, more weight than Muscle Man's right bicep, which I might add, is rather bloody large (he'll pay me later).

I recall at a Weight Watchers meeting once being shown a one kilogram replica of a lump of fat! Disgusting. Well, if I piled up 20 of those lump's we'd have one HUGE pyramid of fake lard! Yep, 20 kilos is not to be sneezed at. Even 5 kilos is a fantastic achievement. Realistically for SO many people even the slightest amount of weight gain can be enough to alter their whole perception of themselves and shatter ones self confidence. Those feelings are not mutually exclusive to those in the 'obese' category.

Back to Mum and Sexy Twin. I've thought a lot about it, and I completely understand why they could not see me the way I was. The way I looked outside genuinely did not matter to the ones I loved. They saw the daughter who loved her job and was good at it, the sister who was good at organising things and loved hosting parties, the friend who was loyal and "motherly". What they didn't see was the shy, self-loathing, embarrassed, unworthy me that I saw. The me that I kept hidden away.

I realised as I was thinking about this, the fact the people who loved me couldn't see my obvious weight flaw said so much about them, and even more about me. It said that they valued the traits about me which were not connected to a size 10 or 12 pair of jeans. The traits that were not applied in the form of makeup to pull the focus away from my body, the traits that were from the heart. The REAL qualities of a human being. Meanwhile, when I looked at myself I saw none of these things, or if I did, it was a way to replace the true self consciousness I had over my size. Put simply, I did not love myself. I saw EVERY flaw rather than a few. I saw the flaws rather than seeing any of the wonderful things about me. The unique things that make me ME.

How can someone genuinely change their lives, or change their habits if they don't believe, or feel, worthy of the change? Why would you even bother? This was how I felt for so many years.

Just before Angel's (younger sisters code name remember) wedding I actually had another potential "light-bulb" moment involving Muscle Man's cousin. Myself, Sexy Twin and our friend, JP (who is said cousin's partner) were having a few drinks when somehow the discussion of weight loss and body size came up. I honestly can't recall the exact details or In's and outs of that conversation but I will never forget that for some reason I asked Muscle Man's cousin if he thought I needed to loose weight. He said "YES".

At first I was so indignant. I was so angry that he had answered truthfully. Why the heck hadn't he lied? Didn't he know when we women say we want the truth we mean the truth we WANT to hear. It was the first time someone had said I needed to loose weight and I couldn't shake it off. I'd been called names before, but previously it was easier to put it down to credentials. Random strangers, or vicious girls from school spreading salacious gossip was easier to chalk down to plain bitchiness. This on the other hand, was simply an honest answer to a question I had asked.

Naturally I came home and fell into a heap in the enveloping arms of my Muscle Man. He soothed me and said it was just not true (see, he knew what I wanted to hear!). Deep down though, I couldn't shake the knowing feeling that it was. It was true. I needed to loose weight before it engulfed any more of my life.

In hindsight I realised that I actually appreciated the honesty and the risk that Muscle Man's cousin took by telling me he did think I could lose some weight. It hurt at the time because even though I knew I needed too, I had also somehow convinced myself that the problem was mostly mine. I thought perhaps I saw myself worse than others did, and hidden inside my gigantic jumpers, jackets, scarves and high heels (you know, the illusion of height and slenderness) that no one really could see how big I was. In hindsight he did me a favour.

I honestly can say that I now love myself. I have gained self-respect and a genuine feeling of self-worth. In many ways I loathe that it came about from weight loss. Social engineering if you will. However, I would prefer to think that rather than finding self love because I am now attached to a size 12 pair of jeans, it's because I value myself enough to fight for me. Enough to make me get off my butt and keep fit. Enough to aim for longevity and fitness with my kids. I love myself enough to know that I feel better without the added stress of a 20 kilo pyramid of lard attached to my butt, thighs and belly.

Before anything else; before you put the joggers on and go for a walk, before you cut up the veggies for tonight's stir fry, before you sign up to your local Weight Watchers to see your own pyramid of fat, ask yourself - DO I LOVE ME? If the answer is no, then please let me tell you, it's time to start.

The tent known formally as a Jumper!

2008-05-21T04:21:00.000-07:00

It's pretty nerve wracking putting pics of myself up on the net. Sure, sure, some may think I am an exhibitionist and in my former college days with a bit of grape juice under my belt, I have been known to flash a collar bone or two. But putting these "fat" pictures up is actually quite difficult. It's hard for me to accept I looked like that. Hard to put the vanity to the side and acknowledge the changes between the two.

None the less, for the sake of self motivation (having a mental "fat" day) I thought I would share some "before and after" pics.

Honestly, these pics are all just plain frightening! The quality and resolution is doing no one any favours but I think if you see past my pixelated face you get the idea :o)

"I've Just had a Baby"

2008-05-19T23:13:00.000-07:00

So, how long is that comment plausible for I wonder? For me, after the birth of Jim I was still using it as my justification for eating copious amounts of food and sitting on my big bazoo well into his second year of life. It was my tried and tested excuse for everything. "I can't possibly walk with you today Muscle Man, I've just had a baby" I'd be saying this as Jim would be running past, singing his ABC's and competently peeling his own banana. Yep, very much a baby, right!

It was really the same as when I was pregnant and I was eating for two. One donut for me, one for the baby, one Big Mac for me, one for the baby. Of course during these 'eating for two' pregnancy binges I was never thinking about the fact that only ONE of us would have to do the work to burn it off and get back to having 2 thighs instead of 4!

In all honesty though, both pregnancy and post partum are very difficult times for many women (myself included) when it comes to accepting the changes our body is, and has, made. Even without the help of shares in McDonald's I am confident that some of the changes which have taken place on my body would have still occurred regardless of what I did or did not eat. I am convinced I must have had a pre-disposition to stretch marks, and sadly I am not just talking one or two little red marks on the side of my hips. No, I am talking about the angry, fiery red ones that were so big in some places they now look something like an accordion of skin (gross!).

I also had the very deceptive problem of my boobs growing so big that I could have given half the Playboy Bunny's a run for their money (only in the boob department I might add). That is until I had a baby literally suck the life and size right out of them within a few short months. Now the only person I could give a run for their money in the chest area is Muscle Man. Even sadder, it's a close call with his muscular pectoral area! There were many times when Jim would ask for "booby" and I'd want to palm him off to his Dad!

After Jim's birth I felt very despondent about my appearance. Despite having been a big girl before I fell pregnant with him, I can't say I had ever experienced the problem of excess skin. Suddenly I was dealing with a new baby, shrinking boobs, a stretched jelly belly and an unwanted flap of skin. I wanted to pack that excess skin up with a little red handkerchief tied to a stick and a pop tent and tell it to find a new place of residence, oh and while it was at it, return my disappearing boobs thank you very much!

It's odd when you think about how the human mind works. Here I was feeling so depressed about my appearance and yet attempting to quash the sentiment with anything deep fried and loaded with sugar. And I thought I was not an emotional eater! Pfft!

I stupidly assumed all through Jim's pregnancy that breastfeeding would finally be my ticket out of the grey and bleak land of fattydom (yes, I've made up a word). My own Mum was one of these women who left the hospital with a new baby, smaller then when she fell pregnant. Especially after the birth of Sexy Twin and I (cows...the lactating variety of course). Yes, breastfeeding was my free ride to battling the bulge. How wrong I was.

There are a few myths I have learnt from parenting. You know, the things well meaning people tell you about losing weight after the birth of a baby to make you feel better about your Jupiter sized buttock's. Examples;

Myth: Breastfeeding will melt the weight right off you.

Truth: Not if you are me it won't. In fact what breastfeeding will do is leave you ravishing with hunger so you eat everything in sight and then gain more weight then you had at 9 months pregnant! Even after Bob's birth and eating very sensibly, breastfeeding did NOT melt the weight right off.

Myth: When you are a parent, you are so busy chasing kids around and cleaning up after them that you lose weight, or simply never gain it.

Truth: OK, perhaps this would be true if I wasn't chasing the kids and the ice-cream truck at the same time. And perhaps if I DID clean up, and chase around after my hurricane Jim I'd burn a few calories. In any event I actually still am not convinced that this is a method of weight loss that would meet a Dr's approval.

Myth: Waking through the night to feed a baby will burn more calories as you are feeding more.

Truth: Founder of this myth, you're an idiot.

Jokes aside though, I do want to share my thoughts on weight loss after pregnancy.

I completely understand how frustrating it is seeing your previously glowing (and bursting) belly looking like a deflated balloon. I understand how incredibly annoying it is being in-between sizes with clothes. After Jim I didn't fit back into my "pre-pregnancy" clothes for a very long time. I was still trying to wear elastic waist pants 14 months after he was born (basically I lived in pyjamas). I also understand all too well that the pressure and personal expectations we place on ourselves can be unrealistic and emotionally draining.

It certainly does not help that we live in a society that splashes pictures of celebrities walking out of hospital, new baby in arm, bikini on body, nanny in tow. Usually the headline is some sensationalist crap announcing "Sue Smith's amazing after baby body and how she did it".
Quite simple really, she had her plastic surgeon, make-up artist, bikini designer, Yoga instructor and shot of wheat grass all on stand by for that grand exit. How can a mere mortal like me possibly stand a chance!

Yes, the saying "it took 9 months to put the weight on and 9 to take it off" is true. We mothers need to be kind to ourselves. We are our own worst critics about a myriad of other issues and it's probably high time we put the emphasis back on praising the female body for it's amazing ability to sustain life. Take those first few months easy. Fatten up your breast milk with a Tim Tam and then put your beautiful baby in a pram and go for a walk (and make sure you add at least one hill).

As for that flap of skin - sadly only half of it took my offer of a pop tent and moved on. The other half is now Jim's favourite spot to get a decent bear hug with Mum.

Weather Conditions

2008-05-19T01:10:00.001-07:00

Before I was a fit and fab Mamma I had numerous excuses up my sleeve to ardently avoid any form of strenuous activity. Even in the bedroom Muscle Man was left with the brunt of anything energy exerting and when it came to physical activity, hanging nappies on the clothesline was about as good as it got for me.

I was not always deliberately lazy I might add. Growing up, Sexy Twin and I played netball with the Primary School team. In High school I enjoyed a brief stint in the girls rowing team, and for a few fleeting months, Nardi and I, along with some other girlfriends, formed a women's basketball team. It's also worth noting that Sexy Twin and I were required to ride our push bikes to school and back each day for many years (a 14 kilometre round trip). Rain, hail or shine. One of the happiest days of my young life was the day Sexy Twin and I had our bikes stolen. From that moment Mum was forced to drive us to school every day, or fork out for a bus ticket. Yes, it was a great, and lazy day.

Yep, in my very youthful school years I was pretty active. Growing up as a child in the delightful 80's and early 90's we partook in cubby house building, bike races (until mine was stolen), swimming in the dirty leech infested creek (ewww, this still gives me the heebie jeebies), climbing trees and running bare foot every where we went. Yes, those were the days. Hypercolour was cool and it was perfectly normal to not return home until dinner was being placed on the table, after having left the house at the crack of a sparrows fart that morning. Hardly anyone we knew was "fat", and life was simple and care free for a young whipper snapper like me.

It was around high school (year 8 camp remember) that this all changed. Then that I became somewhat corrupted by body image and low self esteem. Sure, in year 10 at high school I was in the rowing team for a few months, but mainly that just consisted of horrible early morning starts where we would row as fast and far away from our coach as we could and then sit in the middle of the lake singing Disney songs (I agree, what the heck was I doing singing The Little Mermaid at age 16).

Anyway, I digress (as usual)... years before Jim was born, and for at least 12 months after, exercise did not exist for me. I'd been scared off by that magpie for one, and was just too darn lazy to try again. I had a million excuses to stay planted on my arse (as we all do). Some were reasonable; Magpies for example, some were just flat out pathetic (hair washing day for one).

One guaranteed excuse was always the weather. It was either too hot, too cold, too windy, too rainy, too Autumn, too Summer, too Winter or Spring. The elements were the perfect excuse by far. If it rained it was even better as no one in their right mind works out in the rain right! Yes, every season came with it's own list of reasons to avoid putting on the Lycra and getting physical.

When I purchased my treadmill it unwittingly removed so many of these excuses. Not even now with duct tape holding the cord together in places do I feel I have a justifiable reason to not exercise on most occasions, or weather conditions. Christmas Day even saw me racing home in between lunch and dinner to run a cool 6kms on the tready before indulging in Peach Schnapps Cocktails with the fam.

Obsessive, yes possibly. But then the way I also look at it is that by moving my butt each day I am allowing myself the opportunity to indulge in the peach schnapps without the added guilt of not having earned them (yep, the "earning" thing again).

This afternoon I decided Muscle Man and I would go for another run around the lake. Herding the family into the car like a sheep dog, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for the head wind I was sure we would encounter. The car was having trouble staying it's course on the road it was THAT windy. What were we in for.

Well off we set, kids rugged up with gloves, beanies, blankets, hot water bottles (OK, that's a lie). Muscle Man and I again in running attire. We had not jogged 1 kilometre when we were both assaulted with a vicious gust of wind. Can I just say, that on days like today I feel sorry for anyone wearing a toupee! Not even the strongest wig glue would stand a chance in winds like these.

Willow trees were blowing about in the blustery conditions and the usually flat lake was making record waves at 10cm's high. Muscle Man and I took it in turns to push the pram and each time we'd swap over the non-pram-pusher would suddenly and unexpectedly surge ahead without the added weight and wind barrier of a twin pram with a rain cover and 30 something kilos of children's weight.

As we rounded the final bend and the last 2 kilometres, I was acutely aware that this was the exact kind of day I would formally have stayed firmly indoors without a seconds thought. I'd have been sitting on the couch, woolen rug over my legs, family cat on my lap, cuppa in hand (OK, hot chocolate in hand) feeling very justified at doing nothing. It was simply too cold and too windy, of course.

Well, not anymore. I have and do now jog in the rain, hail, sun and WIND. I exercise in Autumn, Winter, Summer and Spring. The funny thing is, the season I refused to exercise in the most (winter) is actually now my favourite. After all, how much easier would it be to simply stay indoors?

Pay Off

2008-05-18T01:04:00.001-07:00

Muscle Man and I are home from our run. Was much easier than I had expected tonight (gotta love that). We powered around the lake, Jim and Bob in winter woollies, Muscle Man and I in shorts and singlets.

It has to be said, the after exercise endorphin and satisfaction ROCKS!! It's worth every agonising, procrastinating step.

Yep, it certainly has a worthwhile pay off :o)

Body Image and Perception

2008-05-17T22:05:00.001-07:00

Body Image - are we ever truly happy with ours? I know I have moments where I think "yep, I look OK today" but then I also scrutinise every little detail and wonder if I will ever truly be happy with my body. Will I ever feel 'finished' in terms of trying to change my shape, or lose more weight.

I'd be completely lying if I said that I am at my goal (or ideal) weight right now. I am not. I am still on the quest to shed a few kilos, and to be honest I am not sure if I'll ever reach a point where I think that's it, I am done. I guess the reality of this is also the fact that there is no such thing as done.

Sure, I can be done with weighing myself, or obsessing over clothing size, and weight lost; but from now on I understand that fitness and health has to be an every day motion. Like cleaning my teeth or getting dressed.

I have moments where I despair that if I don't eat less and move more every day I won't maintain my weight loss. I have moments where I curse the fact I was not born with an impeccable gene structure which naturally leaves me as a svelte size 10, irrespective of what I eat or whether I ever intentionally work up a sweat. It's hard. It's really hard knowing that this journey, this weight loss and fitness road that I have been on, will never really end.

Most days I am OK with this. Some however, like today, I find it very depressing thinking that I may still have thousands of kilometres to walk and run in my life time just to stake a claim at longevity and health! Today quite frankly, I can't be arsed. Today I want to throw in the towel and say "no more". Today I want to pick up a family sized block of chocolate and wallow in laziness and wasted calories.

To me a diet was something you went on for a period of time, and then it ended. I'd never thought that it really was a lifestyle change. A change involving every choice you make regarding your health, each and every day. Eat well and exercise for the rest of my life after loosing weight - yeah, no thanks, I'll pass.

Last night before getting into bed, I put on a satin slip (no this is not about to get X rated). I have a few items of clothing which I guess you could call "sexy". I've worn them very rarely, if ever. After all, I've never really thought I was sexy and why wear something you don't feel.

To me, sexy meant having perky boobs, a stomach which you could crack an egg on, slender thighs, curves in all the right places and a pair of stiletto heels (it's the pole dancing I tell you, it's corrupted me). I posses none of the above. As I pulled the slip over my head and stood in front of the mirror, I fleetingly felt sexy. Sadly, within moments of this brief feeling, I managed to put the 'sexy me' straight back in her place and point out my obvious flaws. Love handles leaving little bulges in the satin, complete lack of perky rack, a bubble bum, and no stilettos. Not to mention I have not shaved my legs for a few days so have a rather lovely winter coat on the grow. Poor Muscle Man has had to remind me that a winter coat is all very well and good with the exception of the fact it's not actually winter in bed.

As I hurriedly climbed under the blankets and away from my self-critique in front of the mirror, I wondered if every women does what I had just done. Do we all self criticise and focus so blatantly on the things WE don't like without seeing the things which are beautiful?

The next thought I pondered was about perception. I often wonder if other people perceive my physical appearance the way I do, or if they see something completely different. Do they see the flaws I see, or worse still, do they see flaws I am yet too? How does one learn to love these personal flaws, or at best accept them? How does one trust that the other qualities we posses outweigh any blemishes we see?

I guess on some level this comes down to the 'self-talk' we give ourselves. Mine was programed for so long to only note my faults. My self talk was all destructive. Over many years I had completely convinced myself I was nothing but an overweight failure. My weight and my own feelings regarding body image seeped into every aspect of my life. Every day I was literally setting myself up to fail, I knew no other way.

It has to be said that I am a very good actor. I had lead roles in two High school drama productions, I knew how to paint a smile on my face, how to confidently speak in front of a group of people, how to laugh at decent punch lines, how to "play" happy. All in all, I knew how to falsely portray myself as entirely self confident and happy person. The problem was when you stripped down to the core of me I was nothing but an unhappy, image obsessed teenager who loathed her self image and felt repulsed by her naked, or clothed body. These feelings continued into my adult life and I carried them with me everywhere I went. They were the monkey on my back and the devil in my ear.

One of the first things that had to change before I could succeed in loosing weight, was the way I spoke to myself. I had to instantly dismiss hurtful, negative thoughts, with positive, empowering ones. I had to learn how to break the habit of self destruction and begin the path to self belief. They say it takes 6 weeks to break a habit. It's taken me roughly 100 weeks and I am still learning.

I think I need a new motto. My motto has been "I CAN" and now I genuinely do believe and know I can because, put simply, I do. I think it's time to graduate to a new motto. A motto about self image. I need to change the self talk from "look at those flaws" to "embrace those curves" or something equally as corny and cliched.

I know I have a little way to go yet. I know I might never look in the mirror and think I am worth ravaging, I may only feel sexy in moments of fleeting glory, and I may have days at a time where I hate jogging, hate weights, hate walking. Such is life, but I am also aware that I will have days where I will continue to choose the options that will benefit my health and my mind. So, on that note, rather than indulging in my cadbury's chocolate I am going to drag my bubble butt for a jog around the lake. I think I'll drag Muscle Man along also. A little healthy competition's a good thing right?!

Before I go, ask yourself some questions. Do you talk down to yourself? Do you BELIEVE you are worthy of change, and worthy of more than negativity? If so, what can your new motto be?

Feel free to share! Besides, I am in the market for a new one also ;o)

An Old Feeling

2008-05-17T01:05:00.000-07:00

Being on this side of the fence (i.e. the "I've lost weight side") it is sometimes easy to forget how unhappy and emotional I was on the 'I think I am the size of a house side'. However, realistically I have not forgotten those feelings because so far they still continue to outweigh the number of years I've felt 'great' for.

I was overweight for a number of years. Sure, I was never the "biggest" girl in School and I was still perhaps on the smaller side of "obese", but let's be honest, when you personally know that you have weight to loose it doesn't really help that compared to some you may be smaller (or at least to me it didn't). I guess also, I need to reiterate that to me it was always hard because I was unintentionally measuring myself against an identical twin sister who was slim.

In High school I had an embarrassing crush on a guy in my English class. He was also one of my best friends neighbours. I thought he was a dream. At the time, my friend and I shared a letter writing book (hey, it was cool back then) and almost every entry to her was a letter from me professing my love for said guy. You know the kind;

"Dear Diary (friend), today he did the cutest thing. He tied his shoelace. Oh my gosh, I've never seen anyone loop a rabbit through a hole the way he did. I can't help it, I am in love. Meet me at the lockers so I can show you the pencil sharpening's he threw away (and I collected) in Science class.

Signed, Mrs Alfie *insert his surname here*"

I have a vivid memory of being on year 8 camp, my girlfriend and I were going through a tragic Celine Dion phase. We had our Walkman linked between the two of us, walking the length of the beach, one ear phone each; listening to the heartfelt strains of Celine's Heart going on. Every time I heard the chorus I'd be dreaming of myself and this guy holding hands, him declaring his undying 13 year old love to me. Tragic Bliss!

One night on camp a group of my friends decided to play "truth and dare". We wrangled said guy's 'group' into joining us also. The dares started off innocent enough. Eat sand, run a lap of the beach, do the chicken dance, streak across the beach (hey, I said they STARTED innocent). Then we got onto the 'truth' segment of the night. Again it started innocent; when was your first kiss, favourite teacher, biggest secret. Then one of the girls asked the boys to declare who out of the girls present they were either attracted to, or would choose as their girlfriend (guaranteed to offend someone in hindsight).

As I sat there around the fire on the middle of the beach, I recall so vividly my 13 year old heart beating with nerves and then tearing as the guy I was so smitten with announced he liked Sexy Twin. The theme continued. Almost every single guy in the circle also declaring she was their pick. It took all my resolve not to cry right there.

Upon reflection it was nothing to do with the fact Sexy Twin had admirers, or that she was cat nip to 13 year old, prepubescent boys. No, it was just the fact that at that stage I had never encountered a situation where she and I were not equal. Where we were not 'sharing' the boyfriend, or chasing the same one away. Until then I'd never really understood that anyone might see us as anything other than one in the same, looks included.

Tragically, that moment was one of my very first "I'm fat" moments. You know, I don't even know if I was 'overweight' then. I know I couldn't wear the same midriff top or cut off jeans she did, but until then I am not sure if I had consciously put it down to size. I don't know if it was a natural defense mechanism to protect my aching young heart, or if simply being female I had to put my rejection down to something, and that fit the bill. Either way, I think that moment heralded one of the first "I am unworthy" moments in my I am "FAT" life.

I am not sure if I should confess that at the same camp, despite my 13 year old aching heart, I did go home with a boyfriend. It's quite embarrassing, and yet at the same time, shameful, to admit I ended up dating (for the next 3 years) the one guy in that circle of friends who said he fancied me. Either way, the fact has never escaped me that from the age of 13, I settled for second best and thought I was worthy of even less.

Stay tuned.....

Muscle Man

2008-05-15T20:46:00.000-07:00

Given Muscle Man features in almost every blog entry I thought perhaps I would give him one all too himself. He has after all, been a big influence in both my weight gains and loss.

Muscle Man and I have known each other since I was a very young girl, in Primary School. Before becoming MY Muscle Man, he was childhood friends with my older brother. Such a cliche I know!

Muscle Man is a fraction older than me, so naturally when I was parading around in piggy tales and my care-bears t-shirt, he and older brother were undoubtedly trying to be cool with their Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle cards and NOT annoying younger sisters. I am sure Sexy Twin and I had many a crush on our older brothers mates but in true sibling form, to avoid cramping his style, he and his friends socialised away from the "twins" prying eyes and shameless flirting.

Many years later, all grown up (that's entirely subjective) and moved out of home, I had not given Muscle Man a second, or even first thought (sorry darling). At the time I was working at Darrell Lea chocolates (how ironic) in the city. It was obvious I had eaten my mistakes and in between serving customers I would be sucking on peanut brittle and wondering why my sexy crepe pants were shrinking in the wash.

Well, one day Muscle Man strolled nonchalantly past the store and spotted me. I am sure I looked an amusing sight and his insistence on saying hello was surely out of bemused curiosity that his mates sister was all grown up, dressed like a clown, and working in a chocolate shop. I was wearing a lovely candy-stripped shirt, a bow tie (embarrassing or what) and had chocolate smudged around my mouth from my last in-between-customers scoff. None the less, Muscle Man came in that day, and continued coming in each day for weeks. He used the guise of checking the 'work post box' which was located just behind Darrell Lea.

After some weeks Muscle Man asked to take me out to lunch. "Sure, I'll take your free feed, where are we going? is there a buffet? let me just grab my jacket, and a choccie for the road".

Well, the rest as they say is almost history. After 8 months of 'dating' Muscle Man asked me to be Muscle Women in a very extravagant display inclusive of a mystery flight, scavenger hunt, 36 red roses, bottle of Moet and a lovely big rock at the end of it. 10 months after this we were hitched! I've now served 5 years of this life sentence ;o)

From day one of our relationship, I knew Muscle Man was a little sport obsessed. Over the years he has played soccer and AFL and frequents the gym weekly. Early on in our marriage he made the silly mistake of confiding in me that his dream women had always been a sporty brunette. Sorry Buck, you are now married to a chubby blonde and you better start making up for that comment if you want a bed companion tonight!

Naturally at times he couldn't understand the low self-worth I had. Fitness is such a black and white subject to him so it was often the cause of angst in our home. Muscle Man grew up in a sporty family. His parents frequent the gym daily and his sister is a professional sports aerobics something-or-other. In fact she is currently ranked 6th in the World for sports aerobics. For me, the pressure was on. What had I gotten myself into.

However, despite our differences, over the years Muscle Man has been quite supportive and has forked out, or budgeted for every attempt at weight loss I have made. Whilst he couldn't always understand my emotions and the feelings of failure I experienced, he has more often than not tried to support me in whatever I have needed.

When I finally began loosing weight, and keeping it off, Muscle Man was right beside me offering words of encouragement and affirming my efforts. We often go jogging together now days and take great pleasure in ribbing each other about our exercises of choice. His being weight lifting and mine being running. I can run faster then him, but of course he can lift more weights then I would ever dream of.

Sexy Twins 8 yr old daughter called Muscle Man "Fabio" once. It was hilarious coming from the mouth of babes as they say, and in jest we call him Fabio still. Personally I think he quite likes it and I am sure in secret practises his "I can't believe it's not butter" in front of the mirror. Muscles bulging, top button on shirt undone.

I am still not 'sporty' and despite being the Mother of boys, I still can't see a love of sport ever really happening. The only aspect of sport I like is the beer (and even then I am a vino gal). But, I am fit now and I think Muscle Man recognises that this was just as important to him.

All in all, I must admit I am quite fond of Muscle Man's muscles (now that I have some of my own to show off). In any event, as I said to him, every good read needs a character of comic value. He can be mine.

Gadgets and Gimmicks

2008-05-15T03:11:00.001-07:00

Being a stay at home Mum at present, I am often subjected to television advertisements throughout the day (or in between Dr Phil) for numerous exercise machines, DVDs, pills and shakes.

We have the Ab King Pro (Sexy Twin wants one of these), the Bo-Flex machine (do you have a Bo flex body?), the Bean (some random abdominal sculpting bean bag). Windsor Pilate's DVDs (I own these - not bad) and an assortment of others. My favourite is the adverts for 'celebrity slim'. Has anyone seen a "celebrity" advertising this protein shake based diet? Doubt it, and no Kat from the Biggest Loser series 1 does not count!

Let's face it, there is a HUGE industry in weight loss. It's not even about overall health these days. Nope, it mostly seems directed at loosing inches off your waist and sculpting your butt, abs and thighs, the "3 minutes a day" way.

Whilst I appreciate the sentiments, it does concern me that as a whole, society does not seem to put sufficient emphasis on making healthy lifestyle choices. Even programs such as Lite N Easy and Jenny Craig do not actually teach consumers much about every food day choices. Sure, portion control (aka: starvation) may be learned but aside from this all I really learnt was how to expertly microwave a frozen dinner and then stare at my empty plate like Oliver Twist wishing there was more!

For the most part I generally think that the majority of people KNOW what foods will fuel the body. In Australia I am fairly confident that we all grew up with some knowledge of the healthy pyramid chart, and as a rule I think it's a a great chart to follow. Sure, I wish the fats and oils were the breads and grains, but hey beggars can't be choosers right!

Over the years I have had many a gym membership and looked for multiple get fit quick (try saying that 6 times fast) options. I wanted to be slimmer so desperately I almost always banished thoughts of actually being thin the minute they arose, knowing I'd failed before, and would inevitably again. It was just to darn depressing thinking about something which had always just been such a pipe dream. No, it was easier to dream of things I could have; bacon for breakfast, mars bar for morning tea, the chip and lolly aisle at Woolworth's for lunch.

Each night before bed I would wish that I could wake up the next morning magically thinner. Each new diet or exercise program I embarked on I wanted results immediately and each time the long term effort required dissuaded any genuine effort on my behalf. However, I was willing to spend whatever it cost to loose weight. And often, I did. Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, Lite N Easy, Windsor Pilate's, gym memberships, Jane Fonda videos (how embarrassment), bucket loads of glad wrap (don't ask), shakes, protein powders and I'll even admit to diet pills. Heck, if I could have paid someone to diet and exercise for me I would have (wouldn't we all).

Whilst I appreciate the benefit of gym's (Muscle Man's an avid fan) I also appreciate that anyone can loose weight without the token gym membership. Muscle Man is spurred on by his reflection in the vast expanse of mirrors in the weight lifting section and probably just stops short of kissing his "gun's" whilst lifting his weights. I, on the other hand HATED seeing my body attempting to get fit in the mirrors and would always vie for a spot at the back of any class. Body Balance was especially scary. Seeing myself try and fold up like a pretzel was never bound to be a pretty sight for anyone let alone me when my foot got caught in a roll of back fat! Body Pump was equally as scary when I had trouble lifting the bar, let alone applying weights. Nope, even now gyms are not for me.

I recall at one of the many Weight Watchers meetings I attended, the leader suggesting we lift weights at home using household items. She suggested using tin cans of soup, spaghetti or baked beans. Did she mean to lift them before or after I'd consumed the contents? In any event is a 500g tin of food, I'd rather be eating, really going to help me loose weight? Each arm curl would inevitably just come into visual contact and cause my stomach to rumble in hunger. After 10 reps with my tin can I'd have changed the reps from tin can to chin, to fork to mouth.

Each and every one of us (OK, with the exception of a few), are already equipped with the tools we need to be active. If you have two feet and a heart beat you are good to go! I do understand the time restraints we are pressed with these days. I too have to make time to exercise. When Jim and Bob are down for a nap, I jog on my treadmill. When Muscle Man gets home from work, I am out the door on my run. When Jim and Bob are watching the Wiggles for the umpteenth (my Mum's favourite word) time a day I lift weights in my lounge room, when I return to work I will jog in my lunch break. Making time for exercise is like any other daily event. You have to CHOOSE to make the time and schedule it in.

Whatever your preference be it gyms, local footpaths, the Ab King Pro, a tin can I rather like the Nike Slogan - JUST DO IT.

Reward Yourself

2008-05-13T04:20:00.000-07:00

When I first began my successful journey to finally shed the kilos I tried to visualise myself at the end. I started with a somewhat unrealistic picture of a sexy Bo Derek me walking out of a calm blue ocean onto golden sand, my head seductively flicking my mane of hair as water beaded off my sun-tanned body. Every eye on the beach mesmerised by my new svelte figure.

Surprisingly this image did not inspire me. Perhaps it was the stretch marks on my belly so lovingly left behind by Jim's arrival. Perhaps it was the fact I had cellulite on my thighs which even now refuses to completely budge. Or perhaps it was the fact that even if I did manage to lose enough weight, gain a 6 pack (the stomach kind, not the beverage) and grab a tan like good ol' Bo's I still wouldn't have the mental confidence to wear a string bikini with gold fringing at the nether regions. Surely, it had to be the gold string bikini I found so off putting ;o)

Realistically however, I think it was more to do with the fact that I was aspiring to be something I actually never will be. I do have a road map of stretchies on my belly from both bubs expansion in-utero. I am truly human and have the odd cottage cheese thigh (make that two) and sadly, I have one breast which seriously outshines the other in the size department. Yep, let's face it, I am human, a typical poster girl for a busy suburban Mum.

Hollywood and media advertising have a lot to answer for when it comes to images of what we think the perfect women looks like. We automatically think of the 'Elle's' of this world and aspire to what seems to be bodily perfection. However, for many of us we'd be grateful with a little shrinkage in the hip department, a stomach which was at best taut, and a butt which does not require it's own post code.

Once I realised I was aiming for things which are not entirely healthy (or realistic), I decided to redefine my goals. I changed my desire to be like Bo, to a desire to be fit, strong, confident, happy, and sexy in my own skin. When I changed my thinking I began to see my body for the amazing things it has done and not the things it might never be. I saw my stretch marks as signs that my body was able to carry life. I saw my right breast (yes, only my right) as a source of nutrition and comfort for my babies, and I saw my cellulite and cushy butt as a sign of a soft and comfortable place to sit at the end of a hard day.

Along the way to realising and appreciating these things I rewarded myself. A massage here, a chocolate there. New clothes at times and shoes to match (of course). I try and reward myself quite often to acknowledge my success. I'll buy a face mask and plan a night of pampering. A hot chocolate, or dinner, out with friends. Clothes which allow my curves to be seen in all their glory, an hour at a day spa to allow someone else to work away my muscle pain from jogging, lingerie for Muscle Man (hmm, that reads well). Yes, rewards are essential. They not only affirm the hard work we do, but they also give meaning to the sweat, tears and tantrums (kids and mine) along the way.

I absolutely still have moments where I look in a mirror naked and frighten myself. I have days at a time where I'll wish I had a get rich quick scheme so I could have a Mummy tuck, a 'left' breast enhancement, and liposuction. I have moments where I catch a glimpse of my butt and cringe and then worry that if I turn around to fast I'll knock the kids down (jokes). I know that to some degree I probably always will have these little hang ups. None the less I can honestly say that these moments are now fewer then the ones where I feel immense satisfaction with all my body can and has achieved. And for that, I reward myself. I have indeed come along way.

Besides, I always thought I was born in the wrong era of time, I'd have been a supermodel in the days of Venus paintings.

Emotional Eating

2008-05-12T01:06:00.000-07:00

I never used to think I was an emotional eater. To me emotional eating conjured up images of being surrounded by multitudes of Canberra Show type foods. Fairy floss, meat pies, dagwood dogs (what the heck kinda name is dagwood anyway), popcorn, deep fried mars bars, and numerous other foods dripping with that "you're at the show" fatty goodness! I then pictured myself sitting squarely in the centre of these foods, tissue box on hand, sappy 'chick flick' on the box, tears streaming down my face and food falling out my gob as I reach for my next fat laden, artery clogging item. No, based on my own image, I was not an emotional eater (or so I thought).

Over the last few weeks I've been finding myself at home quite a bit. I am not involved in a mothers group, am not cut out for 'motherly' activities such as walks to the park, autumn leaf crayon drawings (you know, the ones where you colour over the underside of a leaf blah blah), am not akin to play centres and sadly do not have the money to spend on visits to the zoo and the like (who am I kidding, it would be coffee dates and shopping sprees anyway). So, being at home with my two darling boys, Jim and Bob, I have found myself feeling rather bored at times. And you know what I do when I am bored, yep I eat!

It's staggering how many times I walk past my pantries (we are blessed (or cursed) with two separate pantries) open the doors and survey the options. Even though we very rarely have unsavoury foods in our house I still find myself opening the cupboards willing that chocolate to magically appear. In moments of weakness I confess, I have even looked at a roll of ready made marzipan icing and wondered if that would suffice for a sugar craving.

I have made some fairly interesting concoctions in times of weakness. Mashed potato for morning tea (naturally, that comes with lashings of milk and butter), melted cheese salada's, (I agree, it sounds foul), greek yogurt smothered in milo, and of course you can't go wrong with anything lathered in peanut butter or nutella (unless of course it comes with a side dish of anaphylactic shock in which case I'd say you probably can)!

Yep, when it comes to emotional eating. I am guilty. However, I think it's probably more appropriate to say that when it comes to ANYTIME eating, I am guilty. I feel bored, I eat, I walk past the cupboard, I eat, I'm contemplating housework, I eat. Angry, sad, mad or glad, yep you guessed it - I eat!

I guess I should note that I do not succumb to moments of weakness every day. I am actually generally quite controlled and know that I have to be in order to keep said control. I also know that the secret to a good 'scoff my face' session is that I have to work extra hard on my next run, or lift a few extra weights. In this regard it evens out at times. It's also for this reason that I am NOT on a diet. I try as often as possible to eat sensible foods, have reasonable servings, regular snacks, and low fat/low sugar foods. None the less, if I want chocolate or yogurt milo, I'll eat it - BUT, most of the time I'll regret it when I think of the extra 2 kilometres I'll have to jog to prevent it landing directly on my love handles (another stupid name - nothing loving about floppy chunks of fat which hang over ones hip bone and inevitably lead to a muffin top). No, the marzipan roll certainly ain't worth that!

So, next time you go to raid your pantry in a moment of boredom, hunger, weakness....ask yourself, is this really worth it, and will I work it off?

Mothers Day Classic!!

2008-05-10T18:00:00.000-07:00

What a feeling, bein's believin' I can have it all, now I'm dancin' for my life. Take your passion, and make it happen, pictures come alive, you can dance right through your life.....

Imagine visions of flash dance racing through my head (either that or a beer commercial). Finally, I've accomplished that goal! Now to aim for bigger and better things! Actually, this morning was so great I think I'll stick to the little 'fun-run's for a while and work my way up to a 1/2 marathon (ehem). Next goal: Sydney city to surf!?

I must admit when I woke up this morning I fleetingly thought of staying in the warmth and comfort of my bed. Muscle Man and I had a rough nights sleep with little Bob being a touch unwell and waking more frequently then usual. Add to the equation I had a coffee at 9.30pm last night and even though it was a decaf it still had me bouncing off the walls until after midnight.

I have a little saying (actually I flogged it from a weight watchers meeting many moons ago):

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail!

I know it's a complete cliche, but for me personally this is very true. So last night as I was buzzing around on a 'fake' coffee high, I laid out my clothes, packed a watter bottle, grabbed supplies for the youngen's (oh and the Muscular one also) and recharged my iPod. Yes, I was set. Failure was not an option, until the alarm went off this morning. I am the absolute worst morning person. I am cranky, disoriented, lazy, scary looking, and generally quite irritable to say the least. Muscle Man often kisses me goodbye for work at his own risk, and knows it!

So at 6.45am this morning when the alarm starts blaring my first instinct is to pick it up and smash it against the wall as hard as I can, hoping it shatters on impact. I'd then proceed to pull the covers over my head and fall back to sleep. Then I realise I am dreaming. So, after hitting snooze for 20 minutes I decided I just HAD to get up. I groggily walked out to the kitchen, turned the coffee machine on (a REAL one this morning - although clearly they have similar affects on me) and whisked a piece of bread in the toaster. I felt excited and nervous and more than anything else pumped! Today was the day!

After a frazzled dash around the house to feed the kids, yell at Muscle Man to get moving (see, bad in the mornings), get dressed, grab the camera, debate chickening out...we were finally out the door! There was no turning back now. Not to mention what would I have written in my blog update today. It rained? See, accountability, it's a darn good thing in times of trial!

We arrived at the race venue and finally at 9.30am (we had been there since 8.30am) the pack started moving, carried by the momentum and inertia of the moment I set off feeling confident. I felt great and noted that despite my earlier, irrational fears I was as capable runner as anyone alongside me. I overtook numerous people, including a very fit girl from my High school (woohoo). The entire course I felt strong and steady. My pace was good, my stride was long. Heart rate was consistent and my legs felt like pistons beneath me. I was a machine (hahahahaha).

26 minutes later I crossed the finish line. Muscle Man was confident I was in the top 150 runners and out of a minimum 1,000 for my race I am absolutely stoked with this! Shall see when the results come out how I measure up though :)

All in all a fabulous Mothers day for me and another personal reminder of why I am a Fit and Fab Mamma ;o)

Happy Mothers Day to all you FAB Mums out there :)

At the start of the race - getting pumped

Can you spot me? Start of the race, this is only 1/3rd of the group

100 metres from the finish line (I'm beside the lady in pink - at the back)

The finish line

The end! On cloud nine!

New Years Resolutions

2008-05-09T23:51:00.000-07:00

Yes, I realise it is May but what a perfect time to reassess and evaluate the goals so many of us made at the start of this year. As with every year, I find myself shocked at the speed by which this year is moving. Each new year year I lament that I can not believe how fast the year before went by. Every year is the same. Being almost half way through the year, it causes me to reflect on my own resolutions.

Save more money (hmmmm, still trying on this one)
Clean the house more often (dead set failing at this one)
Try something new and adventurous (need to work on this one)
Buy more dresses and figure flattering clothes (possibly why I am saving no money)
Compete in a fun run or triathlon (more on this later)

Every year, there seems to be an awful lot of social pressure when it comes to new years resolutions. I imagine the top two resolutions would be to quit smoking and of course, lose weight. Companies affiliated with either would cash in on the hype of individuals determination that this will be their year! I've succumbed to the hype, and lined someones pockets many years.

It was January 2006 and in a surge of self confidence I picked up the phone and dialled Jenny Craig. I had used the JC program some years earlier when Muscle Man and I first began dating and I had ashamedly broken down in tears to him one day about my body image and lack of self-confidence. It hadn't helped that just prior to my putting on the waterworks, Muscle Man's bicep was blocking the sun, and my view In that moment I realised how fit and determined he was, and how reckless with my own health I was. Being the supportive guy he was, he paid for me to join Jenny Craig. I successfully lost 13 kgs during this time. However, within a few months of ceasing the program (didn't help that a dodgy ex flat-mate kept eating my JC food) I had re-gained the majority of the weight I had lost.

Well, this time, this year (2006) I was determined for Jenny to work. At the time Kirsty Ally was the spokeswomen and I was certain if she could achieve her goals with them, so could I.

I recall my first appointment so vividly. Armed with my best 'weight-gain' excuse; Jim, I climbed the 20 odd stairs leading up to the entrance. Breathless by the time I reached the door, I stood outside the centre and pretended to tie my shoe as I curled over trying to regain my breath. After a few minutes I walked inside. I was promptly ushered into a weigh in room where my mug-shot, oh sorry, I mean my "before" photo was taken and I was weighed.

Jim was just shy of 1 and yet sadly I was still wearing maternity clothes. I saw the before photo and cringed. I'd even attempted the token "I'm fat and sad" pose you see in every before weight loss photo. I did indeed look fat, and sad. It was exactly how I felt.

After the formalities I was introduced to my "consultant". She was tall, lean, fit and beautiful. Within the first 5 minutes she had provided me with her life story, ABN number, bra-size, and managed to divulge the fact she had never been "fat" in all her life and could eat whatever she wanted, any time. From that moment on, failure felt ingrained.

How could I possibly succeed if the person keeping me accountable had no understanding of the emotion associated with my weight. No idea of the daily struggle not to eat everything in sight and wallow in my own self-pity whilst drinking chocolate with a straw to prevent having to exert energy braking pieces in half! No, this simply would not do. I was absolutely doomed to fail. Again. As I left with my bags of plastic food, I decided a trip to the golden arches was in order. I needed to mull this one over with a hefty dose of lard.

I stuck it out for a few weeks, sabotaging my efforts daily and having no one I could turn to who understood. Eventually I decided to stop wasting money and throw in the towel again. I relented to Muscle Man that I was destined to remain a fatty and pass the cheese please. Another new years resolution down the drain.

This year I deliberately did not set a 'weight-loss' resolution. I no longer feel the need to. Every day when I wake up I resolve to make this a good day. To make smart choices, to move more. To make my energy in equal my energy out. No, this year I decided to make resolutions which set me outside my comfort zone (OK, weight loss did that too, but in a familiar been here before kinda way). Resolutions which challenge and push me to realise my own potential and self worth. One of my biggest ones was to compete in a triathlon or fun run. Something I previously could only aspire to. Something for fit and 'skinny' people.

Well, I am extremely proud, and excited to announce that tomorrow I am partaking in the Mothers Day Classic fun run. http://www.mothersdayclassic.com.au/ Muscle Man and I jogged the track today to get a feel for the route. We loaded Jim and Bob into our jogger and off we set. It was actually a beautiful track and an equally beautiful day. We completed the course in just under 28 minutes which ain't bad when sharing a child laden pram between the two.

I must admit I am feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves! Nervous that I might get stampeded by a crowd of women who can run faster than I! Nervous that I might appear fraudulent if my breathing is too laboured. Nervous that I will come in dead last (hmmm, wonder if there is a prize for that), and nervous that someone will take my photo and I'll be a heaving mass of rippling fat. Mostly though I have to admit I am excited! Excited that this year, 2008, I will finally succeed in at least one of my new years resolutions (now to master the house work! - nah, it can wait till next year ;o) ).

Power Snooze and Fartlek!

2008-05-07T23:47:00.000-07:00

Power Snooze - OK, what brainiac coined this term? I don't know about you, but unless it's an all nighter, no 'nap' or 'snooze' makes me wake up feeling powerful, or sprightly. In fact, I wake up feeling very much like a Nanna (no offence). I need someone to come and spritz my face with cold water just to get me out of bed. Better yet hook an IV drip with coffee straight into my veins!

The reason I write this is that I have just woken up from an attempt at a so called power snooze! Jim and Bob were asleep so I thought I'd sneak in a 20 minute (who am I kidding, I wanted an hour at least) nap. No sooner had I begun dreaming of tonight's glass of wine I was rudely awoken by young Bob's squawking cry. Does anyone ever wake up from a 20 minute nap feeling better? I know I don't. It's for this reason I so often choose the guaranteed fatigue buster and get my backside hi-tailing it for a run. Even a weights session comes with a sure-fire burst of zest!

This morning Sexy Twin and I took the kidlets, and Sexy Twins's lovable canines, for a walk along the "ridge". We caught up on the daily goss, shared amusing anecdotes about our kids (I lamented I was ready to sell Jim on Ebay) and then inevitably our discussion turned to health and fitness.

Sexy Twin, like me, has a love for running. Hers began in the lead up to her wedding in an effort to shed her final post baby kilos. Like myself, she too found the adrenalin and strength one feels after running addictive. We jog together often, and in true twin form we can match each other stride for stride.

It has not always been the case though and both she and I will be the first to admit that in the initial stages of running we both had the grace of a hippopotamus doing ballet. An hour after my first decent run (20 minutes) my breathing was still laboured, and my face continued to resemble a beetroot. Like many things though practise makes perfect and the more I run, the easier it becomes. I even boast a healthy "sun kissed" glow these days after a run. Much better than being mistaken for Barney the Dinosaur, both in colour and physique.

When I first set about on my mission to battle the bulge, I stumbled across an amusing word in a weight loss magazine, fartlek. Honestly, this word is just ridiculous. The minute I see or say it, I feel like a 10yr old school girl getting the giggles at the word, fart! I think I am going to teach Jim to say it later so I can hear his gorgeous 3 yr old voice wrap it's way around such a funny word. The even funnier part is that the word "fart" means speed! Next time Muscle man lets one rip I'll have to ask how fast it was! 'Lek' for anyone who wants to know, means "play".

Fartlek, or as otherwise known (in the I'm not trying to be Guy Leach world), interval training, is where you increase and decrease your speeds as you progress for the duration of your run, or even walk. So for example on a typical treadmill run, I do the following:

Warm up of 2 minutes at speed 6.5 km/pr hr incline of 2%
1 minute walk at speed 7.5 Km/pr hr
1 minute jog at speed 9
1 minute jog at speed 10
1 minute jog at speed 11

Repeat x's 6 and then warm down for 2 minutes at speed 6.5 again.

When I first began interval training I started at speeds ranging from 4km/pr hr through to 8.5.

Research has shown that interval training can help you burn 30% more fat than standard walking or running. You are encouraging your heart to work harder and constantly pushing yourself to be that little bit stronger. It's also a great way to measure fitness and see improvements in not only your fitness levels, but also your ability, both physical and mental.

You don't need to set about doing any sort of structured or forced intervals initially. Even just walking brisker between light posts (trees work too), or increasing the speed gradually on your treadmill each minute for 4 minutes (repeat 2-4 times to begin with and work your way up) are fantastic ways to get the heart pumping and the blood flowing.

So next time you are thinking of having a power snooze, how about a 20 minute fartlek session instead ;o)

Motivate Me!

2008-05-06T21:34:00.000-07:00

Do you ever see those amusing Nicorette advertisements on TV and wish you had your own little cheer squad? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEyqPISdEFc&feature=related OK, maybe not to help you quit smoking, but how about to motivate you to exercise, or to put the block of Camembert down and pick up the celery instead? I know I do! Sure, I wouldn't want them hanging around watching my butt ripple as I run, and sweat glistening off my forehead, taking lines of foundation with it, but I would love to have them suddenly appear just when I am talking myself out of my daily activity.

A catchy little jingle is all I'd need. "Alfie, Alfie, she's our girl, she CAN do it she's so swell" (OK, lame). I am sure I'd be up in an instant, sweat bands on, Ipod ready to go and motivation soaring (hmmm.....).

I had earlier today decided that I was going to have a self-imposed rest day. I've been jogging every day since Sunday and usually do have a few days off here and there. Muscle Man is away on business again so dealing with Jim and Bob (OK, just Jim. Bob is a 7 month old dream) alone is quite enough exercise, thank you. However, the one thing I do know all to well is that the feelings I get after a good workout session can be like a cure-all. I'm tired - I run - I'm awake. I'm angry - I lift weights - I'm happy. I feel like a walrus - I run - I feel lean. Simple. Or so you would think.

I often spend the hours leading up to exercise talking myself out of it. On my right shoulder I have my little "Go Alfie Go" motivational self, clad in a leotard and ready for a workout, Ala; Olivia Newton John Style. On the other shoulder I have my "No Alfie No" lazy self enticingly offering me a pina colada and a deck chair in the sun. It's a tough choice. Usually after several discussions between myself and I, I agree that to enjoy that pina colada I need to EARN that pina colada.

Last night was a particularly frustrating night where Jim was concerned. I'll save you most of the details, but to give you an indication of his cheeky, destructive, 'Dad's away' self, I'll give you the only detail which has any comic value to it. After being in his room for some time, fooling me into believing he was asleep, he pipes up "MUM, MUM!!!!". Expecting to enter his room to find him seeking a cuddle, or a procrastinating good night kiss, I was shocked to discover his room was trashed. Hurricane Jim had well and truly hit. Now, this is not actually unusual. He is his mothers son after all, so a little mess is expected. But, the alarming part of this event was the fact that upon closer inspection I notice that my little Jim has taken his night time nappy off and using his perfect little "I've been practising" boys aim, he had wee'd in one of his ugh boots!! Not a drop could be seen on the floor. Nope, it was all centred squarely in his shoe!

Needless to say today I was STILL exhausted. Whilst both Jim and Bob were having a nap (well, who can really say what Jim was doing now?!) I decided I would take the opportunity to do the same. Just as I was about to take my shoes off and call it an afternoon, I had a little voice pop into my head and remind me that the very best medicine for ME in situations like this is to slog it out on the treadmill.

I must say I am rather glad I did as whilst on my treadmill I noticed several examples of Jim's 3 year old behaviour I may not have otherwise handled so well. A discarded banana peel behind the rocking chair, an enormous clump of the cats hair from when he WWF'ed her this morning, crayon on our flat screen TV, and the most insulting of all, crayon on my treadmill! Yes, that is right, Jim had drawn all over the belt of my 'mill with green crayon. Every 5 seconds the little crayon cloud would slide past my feet.

One of the very MANY benefits of exercise however, is that as the endorphins begin to kick in, I look lovingly at the banana peel and appreciate the fact we can afford to eat, I look at the cat's hair and think how lovely they are friends (?!?!) and I look at the crayon and think that maybe one day I'll have a little Picasso on my hands :) Ahh exercise, it's my own personal LSD!

Time Poor

2008-05-05T18:39:00.001-07:00

OK, let's be honest, many of us are pressed for time these days. Life is busy and despite often commenting that things will slow down soon enough, who am I kidding, they won't. They never do. There is always mouths to feed, babies to dress, nappies to change (boy will I be stoked when this part of my life ends), a house to clean (not that it is), people to meet, coffee to drink, and work to be done.

The business of life naturally makes it difficult to find time (or make time) for exercise. Realistically it's also the same reason we are so prone to grab takeaway for dinner or make a fleeting visit to a drive-through. I've been guilty of this many times. The easy option, or so it seems.

There was a point in time where I wished KFC had frequent driver points. I'd have earned a free meal every week. And of course, being as lazy as I was, unwrapping that burger and lifting it to my mouth counted as my daily exercise.

Before I had Jim and Bob, I was living the high DINK (double income, no kids) life. Friday night drinks with friends (OK, this still happens), weekend trips away with Muscle Man, dinners out, and take-away meals weekly. Basically all the signs of an expendable income and in my case, an expanding waist line also!

It was so easy to make excuses to avoid working up a sweat. "My make-up might run", "I could strain something", "I don't own gym clothes", "I have no co-ordination" and the most common excuse "I don't have time". Well I guess here's the news flash - You don't have time to NOT exercise. Cliche yes, but we really do only have one body and one life. I am positive that the majority of us want it to the best we can make it.

The Australian Heart Foundation has the following recommendation:

The Heart Foundation and other leading authorities recommend at least 30 minutes
of moderate-intensity physical activity on all or most days of the week. This can be accumulated in bouts of ten minutes or more if this is more convenient.
http://www.heartfoundation.org.au/healthy_living/physical_activity.htm

Now, even though it's not specified here, I would take that as INTENTIONAL exercise. Sadly this means thinking about it does not count. It also means walking to the mailbox (which in my case is 15 metres from my front door), walking to the fridge, changing the Chanel's on the TV, and tying your shoelaces does not count (if only).

No, you have to get up, get out, and get moving (Sheesh, all I need is pom poms and a mini skirt and I could be a cheerleader, Give me a G.....).

Beginning with those "Baby steps" http://fitandfabmamma.blogspot.com/2008/05/baby-steps.html is a great place to start. Park the car further from your destination and walk. Take the stairs rather than the lift, walk the kids to and from School. The physical benefits of working up a sweat (or the makings of one) truly are amazing.

Today I was feeling quite lethargic from Bob's incessant waking through the night (how dare he! OK, fair call he is only a baby), Jim's constant "Why Mum, Why Mum, But whys?" (BECAUSE SON). Oh OK, and from last night's Desperate Housewives tradition. So, when Jim and Bob were down for a sleep I decidedly thought I would have one too. Suddenly my own advice flashed before my eyes and I realised my exhaustion was really just another excuse to avoid increasing the heart rate.

45 minutes after this lovely self-reprimand I was off the treadmill, sweating profusely (hey, I jogged for 30 minutes) and feeling fabulous. Energy levels pepped (heck, I could even clean the house on these endorphins...**), satisfied and strong! GO ME!!

When you think about it rationally, we all use 30 minute segments in our day for things which in many cases could be compensated with something else, i.e. exercise. I know I do. Watching TV, surfing the net, writing this blog, chatting to sexy twin, deciding what clothes to wear, applying my makeup, straightening my hair, trying on the Slim N Lift Supreme. Yep, even despite having two young children I can unequivocally MAKE 30 minutes in my day to contribute to a healthier life. So, can you?

** I did not clean the house. Can someone point me in the direction of a blog, or similar, providing motivation for this?!

Bun's in the Oven!

2008-05-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

No, I am not talking about the delicious hot-cross kind which provide that delightful aroma in houses and shopping centres across the country during Easter time. Nope, I am referring to the lovely colloquial term meaning one is "up the duff", "with child", "in a delicate way" (in the 1950's perhaps), or the REAL meaning - PREGNANT.

Now, just to set the record straight here and now - I am NOT pregnant :) No way Jose! Despite the fact I am admittedly clucky, adore babies and get quite nostalgic whenever I see a lovely rounded tummy on an adoring Mum, token hand rested lovingly on her belly. No, despite nostalgia and a deep yearning to have a daughter one day, that is as far as pregnancy, or talk of it, extends for me now.

So, why this blog entry you may ask. Well, naturally being the Mum of two lovely boys I was once pregnant. Despite the outset that perhaps a blog entry on weight loss and pregnancy have nothing to do with one another, they are entwined for me. They represent the FAT and FAB days to a tee!

Nearly 4 years ago when Muscle Man and I found out we were expecting our first bundle of joy, I was an unhealthy, inactive, full-time worker, part-time coffee drinker, full time slob. Finding out I was pregnant was the most glorious excuse under the sun to put my feet up, rest that bowl of Doritos on my belly (despite only being about 8 weeks pregnant at this stage) and indulge my love of chocolate and salty chips and blame it on a craving!

Despite having small bouts of morning sickness in the beginning I was generally more than happy to 'eat for two' and exercise for none.

Whilst I did not gain an enormous stack of weight (after all I was heavily padded to start with) I certainly did not go through Jim's pregnancy feeling energetic, radiant, active or remotely attractive. I had pregnancy complications with Jim and over all felt like an Elephant, bar the 2 year gestation period (Poor elephants!).

After Jim was born I clung to my "I've just had a baby" rationale when maintaining the baby bulge (mine, not his). Then when I began to gain yet more weight (in addition to my leftover pregnancy weight), I again returned to my "I'm eating for two" excuse - Hey, I was breastfeeding!

I was constantly full of excuses; "How can I exercise with a baby?", "I don't have time", "I have to clean the house and attend Mother's group", "Dr Phil and Oprah are on, don't you know", "I have Internet connection - I might get an email!". Essentially, I was simply choosing not to make time.

I recall one time when I attempted a walk with Jim in his pram. I had walked no more than 200 metres when I was swooped by a pack (is it called a pack I wonder?) of Magpies. Those things are vicious. They fly past you snapping their beaks and swooshing their wings, all the while I have visions of them poking me in the eye. I was scared whitless (Mum reads my blog) and had I been able to fit, I'd have been inside Jim's pram with him trying to roll us home with the safety of the hood. As it were I was practically hiding under his pram waiting for the assault to end.

After a few minutes of realising pelvic floor exercises are indeed worthwhile, I had a sudden urge to pelt those 'pies with a rock and remind them I too was with my BABY!! Thankfully, yet more embarrassingly for me (as if hiding under a pram beside a busy road can get any worse), a man on a bike was headed toward me. The magpies gave up their attack on me and swooped after the cyclist. In that instant I raced (waddled) home and decided exercise was just not my forte!

18 months after Jim was born, I was again pregnant. By this point I had lost just shy of 18 kgs and was now so fast I could outrun, outwit and outplay a swarm of Maggies any day! Muscle Man barracks for Collingwood in the AFL (speaking of Magpies). No, we are NOT bogans, and yes he has all is teeth - although it is worth mentioning one is a crown!.

Focus Alfie, focus......

After our first ultrasound and that glorious sight of a heartbeat, I asked my obstetrician if I could continue jogging whilst pregnant. He assured me it was absolutely fine so long as I kept an eye on my temperature and heart rate. Brilliant! I came home that day and jogged around my suburb. All the while with a ridiculous grin on my face amazed at the difference between Jim's pregnancy and this one.

I continued to jog until I was 26 weeks pregnant with Bob and even then I only ceased the jogging due to a shoddy loose pelvis and an irritable uterus (hmmm, sounds lovely)! Despite the uterus and pelvic dramas I did continue to walk almost daily, weight trained 3 times a week and continued walking up the Punisher with Sexy Twin whenever we could.

All in all I felt incredible during Bob's pregnancy. I was rarely tired as I was fuelled by those addictive endorphins, I felt sexy, I did glow and I was as active as I'd ever been. the experience and difference between the two were phenomenal and in itself a reflection of the benefits of a healthy lifestyle, before, during and after pregnancy.

~Left: 29 weeks pregnant with Jim, looking like a puffer fish or a hot air balloon about to take flight~

~Right: 34 weeks pregnant with Bob, feeling great and very sprightly~

(For anyone who wants to know - Jim weighed almost .5 kilos more than Bob. I think it was the Doritos ;o) )

Baby Steps

2008-05-03T22:45:00.000-07:00

Over the past 18 or so months since I started losing weight and changing my life, I've had a number of people ask me how I did it. It's prompted me to provide my suggestions in a nut shell to sustainable weight loss.

Let's go back to the start.....

It was a cold winters night, my pants were splitting at the seam from the quantity of my sizable arse and the consumption of large portions of chocolate was visible from the wrappers lazily strewn around the couch. The couch where I had decided to beach myself.............OK, this isn't quite true but had I not taken stock of the situation then, it could very well be where I am today!
Truthfully, it was very shortly after the dress fitting incident for younger sisters wedding. Younger sister shall from now be known as "Angel" in my blogs.

Angel's wedding had sparked a fire in me that I hadn't felt since Kinglsey's chicken and chips opened up down the road from my house. I was currently faced with this feeling I had only ever felt fleetingly - motivation. So, armed with said motivation I decided to embark on my first weight loss journey that would WORK (as opposed to the hundreds that had previously failed).

Nardi and I had discussed the idea of joining Lite N Easy for a period of time as a means to easily keep a record of our food intake. We signed up for an indefinite period of time and spurred by each other, began keeping food and exercise diaries. We had vowed to have weekly weigh in's, daily emails/phone calls and keep each other accountable throughout the process.

In addition to Lite N Easy I also decided to invest in a treadmill. Muscle Man graciously gave me a large portion of a bonus he had received at work and gave me the supportive, adoring husband pep talk. You know the "I believe in you, you are destined for happiness, I think I'm Tony Robinson" spiel. (Really he was envisioning me in sexy lingerie and hoping my relentless "I'm fat" whinging would cease). Once a suitable treadmill had been purchased operation get foxy began.

Initially I began simply trying to get through each day staying focused on my LNE food. I was still feeding Jim at this stage so my caloric intake was approx 1500 per day. Ordinarily for weight loss I would consume roughly 1200 per day.

The LNE food consisted of smaller main meals and snacks in between. It contained real foods which were quite bearable and could easily be binged upon, and it also contained horrible, plastic frozen food similar to what I would feed my cat, Sheeba. I must admit that there were many, many days where I would stray from the daily foods and consume what I wanted, when I wanted. There were also days where I easily identified I was simply not eating enough. For the most part though it was a vast improvement from the choices I previously made without direction.

Once I felt that I had some control over my eating habits (or felt confident someone was choosing for me) I began walking on my treadmill. I started needing an oxygen tank beside the treadmill and Muscle Man holding up my own personal "You can do it" sign. I was only able to walk for 20 minutes at time at a speed of 6K's per hour. Despite the fact I was never classed as obese, my energy and fitness levels were atrocious. The only exercise I had consistently engaged in previously were turning the pages in my trashy gossipy magazines, and the occasional vacuuming.

Within a few short weeks of walking minimum 4 times a week my fitness had already begun to increase. I was now able to walk for 45 minutes without needing an emergency call to 000 and I had increased the speed by .5 km/pr hr. YAY ME!

I ended up using LNE for 6 weeks. before I decided I had the self belief and skills to manage on my own (oh and I was sick of paying for plastic cheese). During, and after this time, I also continued to aim for better fitness each week. I would increase the speed or duration weekly and aim to incorporate additional exercises, such as sit-ups (groan), leg raises and the occasional load of washing to hang on the line (hey weight watchers reckon that's one bonus point!).

Over time both food intake and exercise became second nature. I didn't want to waste precious calories on the foods I had previously binged on, and I decided there was no point blowing, or wasting a date with my treadmill for a piece of caramel mudcake. One would make me feel better short term (before the guilt set in) and the other was a consistent source of satisfaction and pleasure (endorphins......). Exercise became addictive and as the weight came off I knew there was just no turning back.

I assure you along the way there were plenty of tears, tantrums, secret binges, attempts to sabotage my treadmill and loads of threats to quit buy a moomoo and become a fat recluse. I have to be honest and say that the biggest factor in my success was learning to believe in my self. It's very easy to criticise and berate ones self. It's much harder to stand up and say "Yes, I can". I made a point each morning of saying "I can" before I would allow myself to say I can't.

If I were to provide any tips for weight loss they would be as follows:

* Choose one thing to focus on at a time. Be it your food, your self-talk, or your exercise. Start with just one thing and as you see results in that area gradually add an extra step to focus on.

* Start with achievable goals. There is NO point starting by aiming for something which will take time to achieve. If your goal is to run 10Ks in the future and like me you needed reviving after a 20 minute walk - start by aiming to increase the speed and distance of your walk. Rome wasn't built in a day!

* See each meal as separate to the last. This way, rather then having bacon, eggs, hash browns, mushrooms, toast (droooool) for breakfast and then deciding you've blown the entire day and you'll have mudcake for lunch and dinner, you are making choices for each meal based on it's own merits.

* Every day tell yourself minimum one thing that YOU can do. If you are great at your job, affirm yourself. If you are a great friend, affirm yourself. If you have children who adore you, affirm yourself as their parent. Affirmation is essential in believing you are not only capable, but that you are WORTHY of change.

I actually have many more tips but I am conscious of my blog entry not getting too boring (wow, that's assuming it isn't already) and I am also conscious of not thinking I am Tony Robinson. I'll leave that to Muscle Man :)

The Slim N Lift Supreme

2008-05-02T15:19:00.000-07:00

Or as Muscle Man calls it, "the body condom".

Now, surely most women will know what I am referring to. Those wonderful suck-me-in suits that claim to take inches of your waist, bolster your butt, and tighten your thighs. Well, I own one. Actually I lie, I own about 5!

The first 4 were a vast array of attempts to battle the bulge, or at least disguise it, without having to lift a finger. I have a 3/4 suit that stretches from middle of the thigh to below the bosom. I have a skirt style gut sucker-inera (yeah, no idea how to spell that), I have a corset style inclusive of lovely sharp boning that's guaranteed to stab you if you so much as let your breath out, and I have fat-sucking shorts. All of these were honestly in my mind the simplest way to lose weight. Heck, why attend a Weight Watchers meeting when you can just slip into one of these suits and voila, you're 10kgs smaller!

Shortly after Bob was born I was up feeding him at some unsightly hour in the morning when I happened upon the Danoz direct channel. Now, I will admit to being suckered into home shopping before. OK, numerous times. Let's see, there was the Principle Secret moisturiser - guaranteed to remove or prevent wrinkles, there was Pro-Active formula (or as I now call it paint stripper), there was the Windsor Pilate's DVD's (hmm, still quite like these) and an assortment of other change your life, face and figure products.

A few months ago, sitting in bed feeding my newborn and running very low on sleep I was deliriously tired and yet giddy at the sight of an advert for the Slim N Lift Supreme! The before and after pictures were amazing, never mind the fact that the before shots closely matched Mel Gibson's latest drunken mug shot. As I watched this commercial through half closed, sleepy eyes, I decided I HAD to have one. Ebay is a great friend of mine. I woke up first thing the very next morning, found one on Ebay and was ringing my hands with my satisfying purchase within a matter of minutes.

After a few short days my package arrived. I opened the parcel to find what looked like a giant stocking. I don't mean an exciting Christmas stocking which you know comes filled with toys. No, sadly I am talking pantyhose. I sceptically held up my guaranteed gut buster and decided it looked about the same size as one of Jim's socks. They've sent me the wrong size I immediately quipped. Never the less, I decided before jumping on Ebay and registering my disgust I would try the supreme on. After several unattractive moments of wrestling, grappling, using a pulley and a crane, I had the suit on. I also could not breath. I can see how anything that pushes all the excess fat to your chin can make your body appear smaller. My body did indeed look smaller but meanwhile I now boasted two heads, one made entirely from my love handles. It was such an effort getting the fat suit on I despaired at the thought of removing it, and decided instead to leave it on. By lunch time I felt like a Victorian dame about to faint from the tightness of my corset.

Some months later the supreme is now a little stretched (or maybe I've shrunk). Either way it no longer requires a royal commission to simply get the thing on, and in most respects body wise, I look the same with it on or off (with the exception of being a giant fishnet with it on). It only makes an appearance at special occasions and generally for the sole purpose of reminding me to suck my belly in and engage my core muscles (now who sounds like a commercial). Oh, OK I will also admit that I am yet to have my "mummy tuck" so I still have that delightful flap of skin that could be gently folded into the top of my underwear for safe keeping. Muscle Man groans when ever the suit is pulled from the draw and with a sigh he says "hello body condom".

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The Pole - I've had a few people ask so thought I should provide an update. As yet I have not purchased the pole. I can't say for certain the purchase of the pole is off the cards, but in the interim I will keep practising on my lovely hills hoist in the backyard.

The Punisher

2008-05-01T17:29:00.000-07:00

Sexy Twin lives in front of a mountain. It's not Kilimanjaro or anything of that nature, but it's not bad for a mountain in the middle of the 'burbs. She and I walk up there fairly often with the kidlets. I have my big twin pram and she has her aptly named Jeep (you know, 4WD - great for all terrains).

We have broken the mountain down into segments. It makes the slog easier somehow. So, we start off on our gruelling trek by approaching "The Punisher". This hill has an incline of oh, say 60% and lasts for roughly 700 metres! Naturally It feels like kilometres, especially when you are pushing 32kgs worth of weight in front of you. We walk up this hill cursing the whole time and swearing to never do it again.

We clear the punisher and then have a lovely undulating walk or jog around the base of the mountain. Roughly half way around we approach "The Excruciator". Now, the punisher really is bad, but this hill - well, look what we have named it! It's roughly 300 metres but has an incline of 100%. You basically need to take your own oxygen supply as the air pressure gets so low up there! Trail mix and a rashen pack are a must! Sexy twin and I could be in the middle of discussing World news and events (ha) and no sooner do we see the turn off leading to the excruciator the conversation takes a sudden turn:

Sexy Twin: Oh goodness no (maybe said a little more explicitly than this), look where we are.....
Me: I know, I've been thinking about this, and dreading it, since yesterday when we thought we'd walk up here
Sexy Twin: It's excruciating
Me: Yes, it really bloody is. I HATE this hill. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.
Both of us simultaneously: WHY, OH GOD WHYYYYYYYYYY (now, imagine us down on our knees hands stretched towards the sky screaming this).

Up we go. The excruciator is not a mandatory part of this walk. In fact we are fairly convinced we discovered this track. We should stick a flag at the top and leave a lovely footprint to match!

Sexy Twin and I are unintentionally competitive. Comes with the twin territory I suspect. We have been competing since conception no doubt. I mean, c'mon we shared a placenta so no doubt there was in-utero competition. "Oh look, Mum just ate some chocolate" followed by "Back of sexy twin foetus, they're mine, come near them and I'll give you a nose like Miss Piggy". So the discovery of the excruciator was probably a dare that escalated into a double dare and thus a physical challenge ensued. Not to be outdone the other would have marched up the steep track behind the other with an equal point to prove.

After the excruciator (and the defibrillator) we then jog down the punisher all the while pounding that pavement as if it's some sort of sweet revenge. When all is said and done the satisfaction one feels when completing such a mammoth trek is enough to consider facing those gruelling hills for another day. And we do.