Oh faaaaaark. I am one tired mother. Last night we had academic pathway interviews at school and I didn’t get home until after eight, this morning bounced out of bed (more like staggered) and was at boot camp by 6am. Add to that no sugar or coffee or dairy this week and I am a fucking zombie. I keep having to apologise to peeps this week as I yawn IN THEIR FACE while they are trying to impart vital information in my direction.
And you know how I was feeling bleurgh following those PMT thingys? Well one of the feelings that was lingering was the weight gain. I was feeling distinctly ‘pregnant’ and round which wasn’t fun and everyone I talked to said that I didn’t look any different – but remember my fave item of clothing at the moment is the silk sack. So anyway I bought a set of scales. I feel a bit ashamed to admit it.
I really wanted to subscribe to the whole ‘ Your body is not a number, feel good and be happy and ‘the weight will fall off’ blah blah blah. Stress and all that obsessive weighing being bad for your state of mind I totally get it. BUT the reality is that weight does NOT EVER fall off me. Some people lose weight when they are stressed – I am the opposite. I always have to work for it. I always have to watch my output (exercise) and input (food) and in order to stay comfy I need to be in a constant state of vigilance. Sounds tiring huh? Well it is actually. And the bloody GD is the opposite – he has to make sure he is eating ENOUGH because he does get too skinny – poor us huh. Worlds smallest violin.
I really wanted to believe that if I did yoga and ate what ‘my body wanted’ and did all that zen shit that I would find a natural ‘healthy weight’. Big FAT fail.
We know I failed at the yoga – who has time?!? I don’t have time. I am still boot camping, and I had to stop running for my poor old knee but I am going to try to work it up slowly (and carefully) back to being able to run 5 kms every second day.
And that PMT stuff definitely fucked with me.
So I bought scales. This morning before boot camp I stood on them. And then (think american teenager voice) I LITERALLY DIED.
I haven’t weighed myself since February, and it was a BIG shock. I am not going to tell you because numbers are boring but it was enough to have me tying my shoes on quick smart and running out the door for boot camp. I had grilled chicken and steamed veg for dinner and I have a goal motherfuckers.
I wish I could say that I feel invigorated but I think at the moment it’s a grit your teeth and go in hard type situation. I am shattered but I know that’s the sugar withdrawal and I will feel better in a couple of weeks. Someone remind me of this please in a week when I think I am dying?
You know, when one of my year 12’s greeted me at the door today with ‘Miss have you GAINED?’ (loud voice) a little part of me wanted to smack her. But it’s all motivation eh? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?