My Biggest Ally

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!

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:

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


2. 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!)


3. 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!


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


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


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


7. 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!


8. 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.

1. 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.
2. I can, and have achieved my fitness and weight loss goals in the past, and will continue too do so.
3. 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?

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!

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

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

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?

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*).