And that little bit of wobble around my middle is just...well...winter warming you know!
None of it was snapping me back into fitness, even when someone who was once a close friend, now almost a stranger said to me that I had put on weight, you know what let's quote: "Isn't it funny how you've gotten chubby, no longer a size ten ay"
Even as angry as that comment made me, it did not damage my confidence.
Let's clarify, I am not fat. My BMI is tip top, but yeah, I've put on a little chub, and the hard smooth lines of tone are nowhere to be seen. I've let myself go a little while making excuses.
In the end it only took one moment, one dress:
One dress, one perfectly manufactured, new in season, pink (I never wear pink I know! but it was pink) pencil skirt cut, strapless, sleeveless, sexy, cotton candy, Marilyn Monroe dress. That dress, and me in a moment that felt like the beginning of war, staring in a floor length mirror, that dress and myself. The dress was faultless, I however...had a lot to atone for.
The word 'Whale' came to mind, then I decided I was being a little harsh, so I downgraded the word Whale for Seal. Blubber, and squish, and wobble.
There's something about changing rooms, all those mirrors, and those bloody sales assistants who are no bigger than a size?...what! what size are you? There's no stomach, there's just air and something a bit like a stick! There's something about the damn shop not stocking more than ONE size 12 but having several 8's that makes you feel like a lump of lard rather than a woman.
I know about fashion, I watch Gok Wan, I know there are certain dresses that look Bond Girl Gorgeous on one woman's figure while making another look like a tin of beans, it's a lot about body shape; apple, pear, hourglass, pencil...you just throw it back on the rack and find something else. But this wasn't like that. This pink dress should have looked ok, I should not have felt like I was holding my confidence in tatters as I stuffed myself back into my jeans and boots-the mountain hiking kind of boots, not the sexy knee high black ones. I've worn my jeans too much lately.
I wanted that dress so much I think the blood was being squeezed from my fingers, I could have bought it too, the money crisp and ready to be spent. But I ruined it, the sex bomb I wanted to look back at me from the mirror was instead a young woman looking a little bit devastated and a little bit ashamed...a lot ashamed.
So...to hell with that! I left that shop with a mind to fix this...this pathetic moment I had found myself in. No way in hell was I going to be the woman in a changing room feeling like a lump. I wont have it. I stopped the excuses that day, signed up to the gym that week- no shortcuts, no halfway attempts. This is hardcore...I'm paying monthly so I know I'll go and get my money's worth, regular days plus any extra I can do too. Cookies for breakfast are banned, treats during the day demolished. I'm on a set diet with mainly fruit and a lot of tuna-I like tuna. I've got my goal in place, I know what I want to be and when. I'm 1 month in, another 3 months until my goal date.
Tonight after work I wasn't in the mood, but I forced myself out of the door. Because this is the first time I've ever really wanted this. Before I just wanted something to do, something to be a part of. This time it's serious. I wont stay in that moment in the changing room. I will defeat that moment and succeed.
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