Friday 23 December 2011

Shyte Shape

Like a lot of ideas, at the time it seemed like a good one.  I was curious and decided to weigh Screecher Creature No. 4 by stepping on the scales with him in my arms.  Then I was to step down and weigh myself.  I knew I still had a lot of post pregnancy weight and also that he wasn't anything close to two stone but by God I had been hoping for a better reading than the one the scales was giving me.  There was no getting away from it, I was officially “heavy” and it was time to face the music.  Four back to back pregnancies had finally taken their toll.  Along with a good bit of chocolate and little or no exercise in as many years. 
Something clearly had to be done. On the first night of the New Me Regime, Mister Husband was heading to the shops and asked if I wanted anything.  I put in a request for a small bag of peanut M&M's.  Heavily stressing the small.  He just never listens to me.  He returned with one of those pouch bags.  You know the ones; in theory you're supposed to save some for later and there’s a little bit of (useless) tape on the bag to seal it closed.  Don’t know about you but this clever little marketing ploy is completely wasted on me.  Naturally enough I ate the whole lot. I was disgusted with myself.  And Mister Husband for not listening to me. 
The second night of the New Me Regime didn’t roll round for about a week.  I was easing myself into this.  I popped the Pilates DVD into the video machine, made a cup of coffee, grabbed a fistful of cookies and got ready.  To watch it.  That was as far as I got. The lady instructor put the heart cross ways in me.  I thought she said that exhalations and inhalations were to be 45 counts long.  Each!  After I stopped choking on my choc chip cookies, I realised that something had been lost in translation.  The lady on the DVD was Australian.  She said 4 to 5 counts long, not forty five counts long.  Accents! 
A couple of months later I donated it to the Bring and Buy Sale in Screecher Creature No. 1’s school.
All was not lost, however, and every cloud has a silver lining as they say.  I got a bit of a fright with Screecher Creature No. 1's health over the summer and it inadvertently galvanized me into action. Thus began a massive spring clean of the house and a war was waged on the dust mites. I lost over three pounds that week alone just from scrubbing floors.  I was greatly encouraged.  For the next month or so I continued to loose up to a pound and a half a week and all of a sudden I was half a stone down.  I was on a roll and I even went so far as to download a workout session that promised results after only three half hour sessions a week.  I walked the roads each summer evening until the winter beckoned and I had to stop.  Determined not to fall at the first hurdle, I turned to the gym.  Aqua aerobics took up one night a week with a tummy and thighs class another.  After approximately 6 months, I am over a stone and a half lighter. 
And now this week has happened. Keep fit class is over till the New Year, I haven't visited the gym in a week and the same can be said for my DVD workout.  I run on empty most mornings and lately I am giving into my sugar cravings.  I cram a couple of those mini brioche type things into my mouth and slurp a cup of coffee as I run round getting the boys dressed and fed.  Today alone Screecher Creature No. 3 and I shared a large pack of those chocolate Kimberly heavenly creations.  I swear, I don't know how that empty Roses tin got there.  I can't stop thinking about a bottle of gin I've got chilling in the fridge. I actually had a junk food hangover the other day.  My body is slowly but surely grinding to a halt.  It's all going to hell in a fabulously, frothy cappuccino cup.   I try to lessen the guilt by reminding myself that because I am breastfeeding, I can wave goodbye to at least 500 calories before my feet even hit the floor in the morning.  But at this rate, I don't know how it's not chocolate milk my body is making.  My little lipo suction of a son is going to have to double up on his feeds if he cares about me at all.     
This is Christmas week and it’s getting harder to be good.  My waistband is feeling decidedly tighter already but fek it.  Because you know what, if you can’t indulge at this time of year, when can you? 
Wishing you all, near, far and wide (distance folks, distance not body shapes!) a very merry festive season. 

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