To come out with the truth no matter how much it stings or hurts, frustratingly, they are always right.
I got weighed earlier this week and had a bit of a shock. I discovered I was the heaviest I have ever been. Not morbidly obese my any means but I'm packing some pork. Now I don't mind being a bit chubby, I have been to the other extreme, granted years ago, when I was really ill and I much prefer the curvy look to the crack addict one. However, something needs to be done and quickly, I'm rapidly baking a proper muffin top and I am struggling to zip my work trousers up. Nuff said.
So in conversation over a cuppa tea and 2 finger kit kat (my bad) I mentioned my discovery to my beloved mother. I expected support, encouragement, cries of 'you aren't fat, you're big boned' and 'you look healthy to me love'. Instead she said this,
'You're not fat by any means but you can't afford to put any more on'
Followed by a lecture on my sugar intake, how she has never had a problem with weight - must be hard being so damn perfect eh, and how I need to do more exercise.
To stay I was fuming was an understatement. It was like being stung by the mother of all jellyfish.
So I came home, bearing in mind this morning I was sedated and had a temazepam for a dental procedure in which I am still unsure what he did exactly but I resemble Jaws from James Bond - shexy, and maniacally plotted.
No more will I look in the mirror and see hamster cheeks, no more will I avoid topshop because it's not meant for my body type and no more will I bulk buy whichever chocolate bar is on offer in the supermarket. It's time to get serious. It's time to get out the old weight watchers folder. It's time to find 'The body' within.
I got out my exercise chart. I went for a quick power jog across the reservoir bridge and back, stopping haphazardly to keel over and hyperventilate, I made me a cup of peppermint tea. Yes.. herbal tea.. I mean it. I really mean it. Chocolate is no longer in my vocabulary. Lentils are. (Eugh..Maybe not lentils, cous cous?)
She will see. Oh yes. She will see.
I got weighed earlier this week and had a bit of a shock. I discovered I was the heaviest I have ever been. Not morbidly obese my any means but I'm packing some pork. Now I don't mind being a bit chubby, I have been to the other extreme, granted years ago, when I was really ill and I much prefer the curvy look to the crack addict one. However, something needs to be done and quickly, I'm rapidly baking a proper muffin top and I am struggling to zip my work trousers up. Nuff said.
So in conversation over a cuppa tea and 2 finger kit kat (my bad) I mentioned my discovery to my beloved mother. I expected support, encouragement, cries of 'you aren't fat, you're big boned' and 'you look healthy to me love'. Instead she said this,
'You're not fat by any means but you can't afford to put any more on'
Followed by a lecture on my sugar intake, how she has never had a problem with weight - must be hard being so damn perfect eh, and how I need to do more exercise.
To stay I was fuming was an understatement. It was like being stung by the mother of all jellyfish.
So I came home, bearing in mind this morning I was sedated and had a temazepam for a dental procedure in which I am still unsure what he did exactly but I resemble Jaws from James Bond - shexy, and maniacally plotted.
No more will I look in the mirror and see hamster cheeks, no more will I avoid topshop because it's not meant for my body type and no more will I bulk buy whichever chocolate bar is on offer in the supermarket. It's time to get serious. It's time to get out the old weight watchers folder. It's time to find 'The body' within.
I got out my exercise chart. I went for a quick power jog across the reservoir bridge and back, stopping haphazardly to keel over and hyperventilate, I made me a cup of peppermint tea. Yes.. herbal tea.. I mean it. I really mean it. Chocolate is no longer in my vocabulary. Lentils are. (Eugh..Maybe not lentils, cous cous?)
She will see. Oh yes. She will see.
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