Friday, January 16, 2009
Fat and fabulous
If I were a cat, this would be me. Well, not quite, but this is how I feel in my skin sometimes.
Despite having a major whinge yesterday about the waiting, it suddenly struck me that I have valuable time to gear myself up for the arrival of our children. The house extension is all in order. The building quotes are coming in much lower than expected, so it is unlikely I will be owner-building. I am confident we will have a streamlined easy-care abode in which to shelter our beloved babies by the end of 2009. Unfortunately the physical state of mummy needs a few adjustments.
Mummy was a professional dancer and dance teacher for 15 years. Mummy retired from dance in 2005, followed daddy to Western Australia, and got so contented and happy that mummy got a bit ... well ... fat. Mummy has not been happy being a fatty-tard because there has been no real reason for her to gain 15 kilos in weight in just four years. Way to go mummy! For my American readers, that is 33 pounds. Ouch.
This is mummy four years ago. Mummy is now 20 kilos heavier.
I am the happiest in my life ever, and have really enjoyed not having people gawk at my body while I dance, and really really enjoyed not wearing make-up for four years, but the time has come to do something about the flab. I feel uncomfortable.
I really don't care what people think about me. I also don't care that I am getting older, wrinklier and flabbier. After a life on the stage, I was so relieved I no longer had to whack on the make-up, stay slim and be a glamour puss, just to bring in the bucks, way past my use-by date. There's nothing worse than an ugly, fat old dancer who doesn't know she is ugly, fat and old. Okay, I'm not ugly, nor particularly old, but I am chubby, very chubby. Okay, fat.
I am now uncomfortable in my skin. I have been for some time, but have ignored those extra rolls pushing against my clothes, in particular the extra gut-luggage that grew from a muffin top to an over-baked gateau.
On the sly I have been exercising and eating well. Very well. (Thanks to my online buddy jojoterrific who got me out of the slump and back to me). The Indian diet started it all. I was busting to swim in that lovely pool at the Sun and Sand, but there was no way in the universe I was going to expose even a portion of my ample flesh to the public. I lost three kilos in the fortnight after we returned from Mumbai. No effort. Lots of diahorrea and horrible things going on in the loo, but no effort. Seriously, I swear I am going to eat from roadside stalls and drink the water when we return in four weeks to aid my weight loss efforts.
I have started walking again, and going to the gym. Another kilo has been removed. Last night at the step class at my new gym I was the second fattest person in the room. There were lots of skinny I was the fat-tard hiding in the back row in the only place one cannot see oneself in the mirrors. I now have such an appreciation now of the students who would do this in my dance classes. 15 minutes into the class I was overheated, sweating like a fountain, sucking down the fluids, out of breath and my legs ached. I wanted to walk out right then. But I kept going. While the intensity I put into the workout was, for me, my best effort, compared with my stepper classmates, it was dismal. But I refused to leave the room (as I have on previous occasions) until the hour of torture was up.
I made it! And I am so proud of myself. Even better is that I am itching to go to the gym or for our 5.5k walk. Today sucked because at 40 degrees celsius (104F), there was no way I was moving out of the aircon.
I need to lose wight because I am getting unhappy about buying clothes two sizes larger than I have always been. I am unhappy that it is getting difficult to get up off the floor as my gut-er-ama prevents me from doing so gracefully. I am too unfit to run after toddlers, much less take them to the park, and I am ashamed I have let myself go.
So this is it. Four kilos down and another four before we hit Mumbai in four weeks. I will appreciate any comments about my new endeavour, especially your comments of support that I should and can do this. Weight loss is such a f*cked thing to have to tackle. personally, I think weight loss is harder than surrogacy with an ED from South Africa and a surrogate in India.
Onto other news. My new iMac with its gloriuos 24" monitor has arrived. Willo is being picked up by dad as I type. I have missed him so much. He will be so excited about a new techno toy to play with (takes after his father). So tonight we will be setting her up and loading our India footage. Whoot. I am such a nerd.
Here is my ps. I will sneak in hoping no-one will notice.
I decided to re-enrol in uni part-time. I will go ballistic with all this waiting. Yeah, yeah, I know I said I was going to put in a two-year leave of absence, but I spilt wine on the form and never actually completed it. So, Feb 24 (two days after we get back from Mumbai) I return to uni and I swear you will never hear from me again! I have enrolled in photojournalism and feature writing. Hah! I already have my first photo essay done ... my Mumbai street families series. Walk in the park. I call it multi-tasking.
Posted by Phoenix at 5:40 PM