A few years ago, I looked at how unspeakably lardy I’d become and resolved to do something about it. What was going to be difficult at 30 was going to be far harder at 40 and impossible at 50, so I needed to get my finger out and stop eating the pies.
If you remember that far back, it ended up with me losing 30kg. I didn’t feel like I looked particularly different, but I did notice I had a lot more energy, and I was able to buy clothes from normal shops for the first time in years. My weight bounced back a little, but nothing particularly worrying. I was happy, and got on with my life.
Which is why I didn’t count on the goalposts shifting. For some reason, being smaller than I was is no longer enough. I’m not sure if it’s being down in London. where there are a lot more Beautiful People, or if it’s that my eyes have reset to something approaching normal, but where I am isn’t good enough any more. I’m still right at the top of the sizes in the shops – OK, it’s just that the shops I’m going now to have a considerably smaller spread of sizes, but that’s not the point.
We were at a friend’s BBQ this summer, and I was horrified when I saw the photographs. In my head, I remembered how much I’d lost and thought as myself as OKsized now. And yes, compared to how I was, I’m in great shape. But, I’m still lardy and oh, did those photos ram that home. BetterThanItWas isn’t good enough. Now I want RightWeightForHeight, which means losing 15kg.
We’ve been on holiday this week and eaten a hell of a lot of lard. That stops NOW. And it’s back to the gym to try and finally get myself running for more than 1km at a time. Wish me luck. I suspect this time is going to be hard.