Over the course of exactly three months I will be striving to lose 10 kilos and or 22 pounds. I've experienced a bit of a kickstart into the lead up of this challenge. You see, I had a bit of a health scare in late July 2011 which included a visit to the ER. Countless visits and tests later confirmed a clean bill of health, but I also learned I was overweight, very overweight. Technically obese. A trip to Italy was on the horizon and I had just nailed a new job; I was not ready to undertake a fitness regime. Upon moving to Australia, I signed up and joined Fernwood Fitness where I was given a thorough tour and a free personal training session and that's where it ended. Between the months of February and October I was left with a bi-monthly reminder of my gym membership fees and the fact that I wasn't attending at all.
Cut to October 2011, fresh off of a three-week trip of a lifetime to Italy, I forced myself to re-visit the gym I turned my back on for months. When I arrived I think the sales girl thought I was going to cancel my membership, but I surprised her with my request for a personal trainer. I personally asked for Casey, the girl who originally showed me the ropes and wowed me with her words of encouragement just a few months before. Physically, I was at a zero. The weight came on fast and furious during the first year of marriage and you know what, I have no regrets. The nights I spent with Scott out on the town dining and drinking are my favourite. We fumbled around Melbourne, nailed down the best dining spots for us and ate mouth-watering meals; we've also met and learned the names of some of our now most-loved waiters and waitresses. It was bliss, the best 15 kilos I ever put on and I'm not ashamed to admit this. Although, what I am ashamed of is the denial I experieneced. Generally, I'd like to think of myself as a very happy-go-lucky person and my happiness was blinding me to the fact that my body was changing in shape and size. Round bits stuck out like a sore thumb, pants didn't zip up like they used to and my thighs, it was as if someone had sandpapered my skin (this is known as chub rub my friends).
Leggings and oversized cardigans were the things I wore on the weekend and yet I continued to squeeze myself into the clothes (for work) that were beginning to tear at the seams. Not cute. Fashion is integral to my life and I couldn't wear pretty things. It was sacrilege for me to enter a plus size store, I couldn't cross the threshold mentally or physically. The icing on the cake for me happened during a personal shopping trip in Florence; our guide brought us to some of the most exclusive stores and I could barerly get into a size 44 (European). Talk about deflated. Subconsciously I think I knew how much I had changed; looking back at some of the photos I had taken around the world and here in Australia, I noticed a recurring theme. I took tons of photos of my feet! Wouldn't you rather see a smiling face as you recounted the moments of delight and whim?
I think you get the point. I've travelled to some of the most beautiful places and all I managed to do was snap pictures of my well-manicured feet. I'm not a big gal; I stand just under five feet and three inches, in metric 159 centimetres. Five pounds is all it takes for a vertically-challenged person from going from fit to fat. I am not a stranger to being chubby; I was always the big girl in class and then the weight fell off almost over night when I was 17-years-old. Boys started to remember my name and I had a new social life. In college, the weight crept back on a little bit and then I was thrusted into life, a failed relationship, mediocre career prospects, student debt and everything else. And then I rekindled things with Scott - we fell hard and eloped in Vegas when he was there initially to meet my parents. From the stress of my life changing so rapidly I lost a lot of weight, a bit of my hair and even some of my sanity. You can't question things, but plan when a move so major is set into motion.
Since October, with the help of Casey and my food coach Alex, I have lost about five kilos; it's nothing major, but it's a start. The things that make me the happiest about my weight loss are my clothes fit, I can wear coloured skinny jeans, Australian fashion is now within my reach and I feel as fit as I did two years ago. Alex told me something that struck a chord, "you won't lose weight until you're ready." I know I'm ready and I have these two lovely ladies to help me get there.
Over the next 12 weeks I am going to document my weight loss progression and be as honest and forthcoming about the peaks and the valleys. This won't be easy and is something I'm fully commited to doing. Plus, there's a potential trip to Malta waiting at the end for Scott and I. Keep up with me as I rant, rave and whinge.
