My Story ~ Part I

Part I

To my wonderful family and friends. If any of you ever intentionally or unintentionally read this, no offence is meant by anything I say about you lovely people 🙂

I decided to write about my dieting life. Sorry, that should actually read, my life change in eating habits. The word ‘diet’ is programmed into my head and no matter how many fancy words are given to a weight loss programme it’s still a diet. You need to diet to lose weight. Very matter of fact, but it is a fact. So whenever I use the word ‘diet’ I really do mean ‘healthy eating plan’ but that’s far too many words to type and I value the tips of my fingers, although if I could be bothered, I could actually program a macro into Microsoft Word so that Healthy Eating Plan popped up every time I put in the keyword, but a) I’m typing in notepad and b) it’s a long time since I’ve used MS Word and I’ve forgotten how to set it up LOL.

Oh, by the way, I may just slip into internet speak here by mistake. Years of typing online in forums and the like mean that you very often type things and abbreviatons without thinking, and I do LOL a lot (laugh out loud for those that don’t know). I can’t help it, it’s my way of letting you know that I thought something is or was funny, so bear with me and excuse the LOL’ing.

You will also need to excuse my waffling. I waffle on quite a lot, sometimes I ramble, sometimes I just go on for the sake of it, but I write as I think. This will give you an insight into how my brain works.. or doesn’t as the case may be. It flits off from one thing to another. I think my brain is actually powered by butterflies that flit from floral brain cell to floral brain cell. You get the idea?

Oh, and my ramblings may spill over into life ramblings aswell as the diet, because lets face it, the two go hand in hand.

So… me? Fat, Forty and Fed Up!

Basically, I’m a fat, 40 year old housewife. Married for for 6 years, lived together for 10. I have two older kids, 23 and 18. The 23 year old is off living her life and is no longer dependent on Mummy. 18 year old likes being at home, it’s cheaper than having his own place. He comes and goes when his
life allows it, but he’s working, pays his rent and the situation suits us. And then there is my darling three year old daughter [said through gritted teeth]. A little bundle of love, laughter and fury, and often all three at the same time. Hubby is an intelligent nutcase. [meant in the most affectionate way]. He works hard and plays hard. A complete motorbike nut, I come down the list of his priorities, behind himself and however many motorbikes he has in the garage at the time. But I’m ok with that, I’m used to it, and at the end of the day, he sleeps with me. Although I’m damned sure that if the garage had a non-leaking roof and heating, he’d sleep with his bikes!

I have had a weight problem since my teens. Well, at school I was a size 14. Not too bad I suppose, but even then, I was ’rounded’. It didn’t stay like that for long because at 16 (although on the pill) I got pregnant! I am doomed for all eternity to have a huge weight problem from this point in life onwards.

I put weight on after I’ve had a baby. Now there’s a problem solved! Don’t have any more babies… LOL At 40 years old, there’s no way I’m having anymore babies thank you very much. Again this comes back to the good old female hormones! I have produced baby, I will now nurture baby, I no longer need to reproduce, so I no longer need to look attractive to caveman in the house, and voila.. I let myself go. Baby gets to 2 or 3 years old, hormones kick back in ready to reproduce again, brain says.. omg you fat cow, do something to be attractive to caveman again, and out come the diet books. The circle of life? Not this time! This is going to be the rest of my life, which doesn’t include more babies unless they are grandchildren. I am determined to get to a comfortable weight, where I look good in the clothes I want to wear not the clothes I have to wear because they fit (sort of) and then I will tackle the head demons and control the urge to binge.

I will try to give you a brief history of time.

16 years old, 6 weeks before I was 17 I had a baby girl. I was now 6 stone overweight. In a bad relationship and a new baby, living in a council house. I was now in total control of what meals I had and when. I really can’t remember that far back as to how I ate.

I remember starting Slimming World and losing some weight, probably about 4 stone. I was probably about 19 or 20 at the time. I’d ignored my weight up until that point. One afternoon I was cutting the hedge at the front of my house when someone I hadn’t seen for a while walked past. He said, wow you’ve lost some weight. You’re quite little inside really aren’t you? It made me stop and think as he went on his merry way. I was pleased that my weight loss had been noticed but on the other hand, it made me realise that I don’t actually ‘see’ my body. I’m still the same way today as I type this! I was asked this morning (current weight loss of 3 stone) if I could really tell that I’d lost 3 stone. My reply was instantly, no. My clothes are getting too big, yet I can’t physically see a difference, apart from my face is slimmer. All I can see are the lumps and bumps that I despise!

Skipping forwards a few years, at 21 I was pregnant with my son. A bouncing 8lbs 7oz baby boy was born. Of course, the ‘baby weight’ didn’t fall off and I just got bigger and bigger. I tried every stupid diet under the sun. Too many to even name. I ended back at Slimming World. Now living miles away from any of my family, I had to go it alone to class. I weighed in at a whopping 21 stone 7 lbs!! How the hell did I get that big? I can’t remember getting that huge, it just sort of landed one day. Well I guess it didn’t, I just noticed one day that I was huge and I was running out of options for clothes. I was wearing those absolutely hideous floral elasticated waist skirts and size 32 t-shirts. I paid no attention to my appearance. I was busy being a mum.

The weight loss journey had begun. I managed to lose a total of 9 stone in 11 months. Now that is pretty good going if I say so myself. During that time, I met Mark. I was probably about 17 stone at the time, but we’d met on the internet and got to know each other without the pre-judgemental visual imagery. He wanted to meet up. I was so worried about him seeing me. All he’d seen was a head and shoulders shot. Well when you’re fat you don’t have photographs taken, much less ones of anything below the shoulder line. We’d been talking on the phone for a good few weeks when he said he was coming down to visit. OMG! I was going to die!

But we met, he accepted me as I was because he knew me personally and really liked ‘me’ and he knew I had a weight problem but also knew I was doing something about it. We met several times as friends and enjoyed each other’s company. It was another year or so before we actually got togther as a couple. I got down to around 12 and a half stone. At this point everyone I knew started the age old tradition of, oh don’t go losing anymore weight. You’ve lost so much. Your face is getting too thin and drawn.. blah blah blah. It’s not long before you are brainwashed into thinking that they’re right. Also, being happy in a relationship and being able to buy clothes from a ‘normal’ shop makes you complacent.

Another fast forward and at 36 years old, I am pregnant for a third time. A little bit unexpected but nevertheless, I’m happy about it. We’d been married a couple of years by this point and although I’d had a lovely wedding dress, I was a bit too big for it and felt extremely uncomfortable! I didn’t feel like the blushing bride at all! So, the birth of the baby and another session of nurturing and no need to be attractive to the caveman meant more pounds on. All of a sudden (well it seemed like it to me) I was huge again.  I was beginning to notice that Mark was getting less and less interested in me. A lot of the things we’d shared as a couple were no longer viable because a) I had a baby to look after and b) I was just too damned fat! There was no way I’d get on the back of his motorbikes anymore and he now felt neglected. We didn’t share anything anymore.

By now, I was so grotesque that I just wanted to go and hide in a hole and let the world pass by me. I had been suffering with a medical condition called Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I was diagnosed with this whilst I was at my slimmer end of the spectrum, but as I got bigger and bigger, I began to suffer from it more and more. I could barely walk anywhere without my back/knees/hips giving up on me. I saw the doctor on and off over a few months for various reasons and then one time I had to see the Dr I don’t really get along with. Probably because he is so straight talking. But he’s one of those doctors that no matter what you go in to see him about always refers to your weight. I could go in and say, I’ve got a sore throat and he’d start banging on about my weight.

I’d had to go in about my back problems and I knew that he’d mention my weight, so I braced myself. This time, for some reason, he was really nice. He didn’t come at me with ‘get some weight off’ in his usual aggressive manner. He said “you are a very attractive, young woman”. woah, talk about flattery getting you anywhere LOL. He continued and said that my problems would be worse with the weight, with no disrespect, it’s like carrying 10 suitcases around with me at all times. He said, “you are only 40, you have 10 years to lose the weight or you are going to be stuck with it forever, it’s extremely hard to lose weight once you hit 50”. He gave me painkillers and I went off on my merry ‘I had the fat talk from the doctor’ way.

This may seem quite random, but this was my decisive moment. My 3 yr old was going to gymnastic classes on a Monday night. I was so self conscious of all the other mums being so slim and me waddling my daughter to her gym class. I wouldn’t sit in the cafe area with the other mum’s, I’d go across the road to Sainsbury’s and ‘shop’. Now, the magazines are opposite the door, so I thought ok, I’ll go buy a magazine and some chocolate and I’ll go and sit in the car till the gym class finishes. I was looking for a photography magazine or a gadget mag to read through because I am just not a girly magazine kind of person. I don’t like all the celeb gossip and trashy women’s mags. It really was quite strange… because as I walked towards the magazine stand, all I could see was the Slimming World mag. Now you might be sat there thinking what a pile of crap… it can’t leap out at you like that, but honestly, it did. It just sat on the rack shouting at me. So I bought it.. and no chocolate to go along with it, just a bottle of water, it felt a bit hypochritical buying a slimming mag and chocolate to eat while I read it LOL. I sat in the car and started to read. One of the success stories was about a girl who had Fibromyalgia and she told of her weight loss despite the muscular pain and problems. I read no further. I closed the magazine and announced to the silence inside the car, right, that’s it, I’m going back to Slimming World. I knew there was a class in the morning, I knew where it was and what time it was. I had made my decision! I no longer wanted to  be the embarrassment for my daughter being the fat old mum at the school gate. I wanted my husband to find me attractive physically. I wanted and needed to do something about my weight so that I wouldn’t have to be embarassed or ashamed when I met new people, especially the people I know online when we have meet ups. In the past, I could almost hear the gasps of shock or amazement when they see me for the first time, not realising how big I actually was. Fat doesn’t convey by typed messages! I no longer wanted to be the odd one out. And the top and bottom of it all is I wanted to be happy!!

I joined the slimming class the following morning. It was the 1st of October 2008. The scales yelled at me… 19 stone 13 and a half pounds. MY GOD! I was half a pound away from 20 stone. How the hell did I get back here again? Did it jump on me in the night one night? Did it creep up my computer chair and land on me while I was typing? How on earth did I have the blinkers on for the last 3 years? No wonder my hubby didn’t really want to have sex with me anymore.. he couldn’t find his way around to where he wanted to be. (sorry, too much info there).

Wednesday the 1st of October 2008 is the first day of the rest of my life!

So after my bolt from the blue decision on the Monday night to get the weight of for once and for all, I turned up at the Slimming World Class on the Tuesday morning!

Heart palpitations, hot sweats, panic attack! That’s all before I got out of the car. One foot in front of the other, just get through the door. It’s only a door. Yes but those big scary scales are through that door. They don’t like me, they make huge numbers up just to upset me. There are people in there, loads of skinny people because they’ve all be doing the diet. They’re all going to watch me waddle in, they’ll all laugh at me because I’m fat and they’re not anymore, or even worse, they’re all going to go awwww in sympathy because I’m the fat chick and they feel sorry for me… arghhhh help!  Ok, so that was that horrid little tormenting voice in my head trying to talk me out of my decision. That horrid little voice that says go to the shop and buy chocolate and biscuits and eat them ALL till you feel sick, then have some more because there’s a couple left in the packet. If you leave two in the packet everyone will know that you’ve eaten the rest of them to yourself. OK, gag the voice! and walk through the door.

Mask on… smile brightly because I’m a very happy person and act your way into this class. I should get an Oscar for my acting happy and confident roles I often play.

OMG! everyone is chatting to each other discussing their losses. They know each other. I’m the new girl.. don’t forget to sit at the back of the class. Arghhh even worse, there’s a face I know! Someone knows me! Look straight ahead, look straight ahead.. oh no, don’t. The scales are that way! arghhhh get me out of here, I’ve made a mistake. Too late, the consultant is coming, but she has a nice big smile, she looks friendly enough … hello! It’s done. I’ve committed myself. No bolting out of the door now. OK, lets get on with this.

I tell the consultant that I’ve done the plan before and that I lost a lot of weight (I didn’t tell her it was 9 stone, I didn’t want her to know how badly I’d slipped into old bad eating habits and put it back on again). Quick talk through the plan as it’s not changed much, and then the walk down death row to the scales. More cheery faces and smiley people, I get on the scales. OK, so it’s bad.. it’s really bad, but it’s not as bad as I thought. I haven’t put everything back on that I lost the first time around, I still weigh a stone and a half less than I did at my absolute heaviest over 10 years ago. Even so, I weigh in at half a pound shy of 20 stone! My god! Ok, that’s done. I’m off the scales and finding a seat so that I can breathe again and contemplate just how badly I’ve abused my body to get back to this point. I am so ashamed of myself. Why couldn’t I show a bit of self control? Why did I have to pig out and get so fat again? Do I like being fat? No, absolutely NOT! Then why do I do it to myself?

The odd thing is, that I’ve always cared about my appearance. I’ve always done my hair and makeup. I’ve always made sure my clothes were ‘nice’, even at the larger end of the scale, well until I could only get in what was available. So why, if I care about my appearance so much have I let myself get so fat? Is it wrapping a blanket around my insecurities? Am I climbing into a cocoon? and if so, why? What am I trying to protect myself from? And why am I so insecure? I wonder if the outer-casing, strangely, gives me confidence to be who I am. Everyone has always said what a bubbly, happy go lucky person I am. I’m always laughing and smiling. In fact, I started a sign language course a few years ago and we all had ’signed’ names. The course instructor gave me the sign name of smiler.  So why do I abuse myself so much by over-eating and getting so fat?

I am looking for excuses and I’m sure I could sit here and pull 101 excuses out from an over-bearing and controlling mother, to being thrown into growing up at 16, having a baby and having to head out into the world alone. But in reality, they are just excuses. At the end of the day, I’m fat because I eat too much of the wrong things. I seem to have a switch off mechanism so that I don’t even realise I’m eating things. Not now, obviously since I started on the ‘new me’ journey, but prior to that, I would get a packet of biscuits out of the cupboard (not just a couple of biscuits!) and I’d enjoy the first two, then before I knew it and without even realising it I’d gone through the whole packet. Why? I didn’t enjoy them because I didn’t even notice I was eating them. So it wasn’t for comfort because if you don’t realise you’re eating something it’s not going to be comforting is it? The upshot of it all is I’m just greedy! Why have a twix when you can get a king size twix? Why have one king size twix when you can have two? because you know you like them, even though you don’t notice you’re eating the second one. You can’t leave it sat in the packet. And even if you’ve eaten three of the twix sticks, you can’t leave the fourth one in the packet all alone now can you? Well actually.. yes you can! And this is what I have to learn. I can have the things I want, but I have to get a grip and eat them in moderation, not pig out on the whole lot because it’s there.

One of the worst things I find I do is I will binge when I’m alone. I’d rather people didn’t see me eat (alarms ringing for an eating disorder there or what?). I hate people seeing me eat. Does this come from being self conscious of what people think when they see a fat person eat? The ‘look at that fat cow stuffing her face even more? No wonder she’s so fat!’ I don’t know, but I never let anyone see me eat more than 2 biscuits, not even my hubby. But I’d go back into the kitchen and eat 3 or 4 more without him seeing. How stupid is that? Just greedy! There is absolutely no need for it. oink oink!

So, no more binging. I don’t have to feel guilty if I buy a twix (not kingsize!) because eating a twix is fine, it’s the three that follow it that becomes the problem.

No more excuses for myself, acceptance is the next step.

The class is lovely and friendly, everyone has a good laugh and I don’t actually feel like the new girl and the members in the class are such fun they involve me from the start. I know I’ve made the right decision in coming and I now feel very positive. Ok so I’m the biggest in the class, but I won’t be for long, and the one thing that makes me smile to myself is that when I get on the scales, I’ll never see that huge number ever again!

I wake to the [insert sarcasm] glorious sound of my 3 year old yelling, mummy I need a wee!!

Ok, ready to start the day. Once again it is 7am. Coffee.. my first thought is always coffee. My second thought on this particular morning is OMG, I’m on a diet! Shock and panic attack me at once. Oh no, I shouldn’t be thinking like this. Such a negative feeling. I was so positive yesterday, I was actually looking forward to starting the diet and getting the weight off. But now, reality hits. I’m on a diet, that means I can’t pig out on several twixes, chocolate penguins, packets of biscuits.. or whatever. I’m not even down the stairs yet and the flood gates of negativity have opened.

So I get downstairs and make coffee and try to turn my head around. I pick up my nice shiny new, uncreased slimming books and start to read. Stop thinking about what you can’t have and find out what you can have.

The way Slimming World works is that you have Red Days (original plan) or Green days. Red days are unlimited amounts of lean meat, fish, veg, fruit and have allowances for carbs (bread, potatoes etc). Green Days are unlimited amounts of pasta, potatoes, rice, fruit and veg and have allowances for protein (fish, lean meat). There’s also a dairy (calcium) allowance. You then have a syns allowance (syns for synergy). This is where you count your biscuits, chocolate, wine or beer if you’re a drinker etc. By unlimited amounts, they really do mean unlimited amounts. This means that even at the end of the day if you’re hungry when you’ve used all your syns and allowance up, there is still ‘free’ food you can choose from. You don’t go hungry on this diet, but it can cost a fortune stocking up on meat because it’s classed as a free food on Red Days.

So, head cleared, I weigh my Special K out, measure my milk allowance and have breakfast. Remember you’re on a diet! This mantra keeps cropping up throughout the day, in fact, the entire first week. So now, I can’t stop thinking about food. What I can have, what I can’t have, what I want to have. Remember you’re on a diet. Ok, breakfast gone, what’s next? More coffee. Remember you’re on a diet. I get through the day quite easily food wise, it’s just my head that’s having trouble accepting it. So many times I’d go to the cupboard and think oh, I’ll have .. whatever.. oh no, remember you’re on a diet!! I’m not actually hungry, it’s habit. Why do we get into the habit of having a ‘treat’ with our coffee or a ‘treat’ after lunch, after dinner, for supper. it’s a case of re-train the brain. You don’t need to treat yourself with food, well certainly not high sugar, high carb quick kick foods. They don’t satisfy you at all apart from the quick.. oooh I feel great, after eating it. That doesn’t last long. And so the brain re-training goes on all week.

The biggest problem wasn’t sticking to the plan, it was remembering that I was on the diet. Every morning for the first week I went through the same mental process, wake up, remember I’m on a diet, think about what I can’t have, then convince myself that it’s ok, you can have plenty!

My hubby was in his element during that week with the meals provided each night. Plenty of meat and veg and a good variety. No processed foods, all fresh meat. He said that if this was me being on a diet he was going to force me to stick to it LOL.

And so the week rolls back around to Tuesday. Weigh in day! The day of reckoning. 9.30 is weigh in time and it’s 8am. I’ve had one coffee but I’m not going to have anymore. No breakfast either, not before I get weighed. How stupid is that really? So hungry and thirsty, I head off to class. Nervous, scared, worried… omg what if I’ve put weight on? Will I be the only person in the world to put weight on during the first week of a diet?

The same smiley, welcoming faces as last week. It’s my turn!! Tentatively, I step on the scales. BEEP!! That’s the scales settling on what I weigh this week. 3 and a half pounds off. Well done and a big smile from the guy who does the weighing. I smile and say thank you and head off to grab a coffee to quench my thirst. Now I’m weighed I can drink again. (silly girl). I find myself a seat and the girl next to me asks how I did. 3 and a half off I tell her. She smiles and says that’s great. But why do I feel so disappointed? 3 and a half… but it’s my first week, I should have lost 6 or 7 pounds in my first week. If I only lose 3 and a half in my first week it doesn’t bode well for the rest of my losses. It’s going to take forever to get this weight off. How stupid can I be. 3 and a half pounds is a good loss, but I can’t help feeling fed up at it. By the end of the class I’m feeling much better. We have a good laugh and end up feeling nice and positive for the week ahead.

So, back home again. Now.. the BIG question to myself. Do I have a little treat? If I do that, it will end up in a big treat. I talk to myself for a while, banish the good angel, bad angel sitting on my shoulders and decide to stay on the plan and not have a ‘naughty’. I can’t doom myself to failure at the end of the first week. This is supposed to be a healthy eating plan for life, so get used to it. Have your treats but count them into your allowance! For god’s sake, get a grip!

I considered myself told off and made a nice bacon omelette for dinner and planned week 2.

So now I’m six months down the line. I am 59lbs lighter (as I write this). I am no longer a size 28 clothes. I can get comfortably into a size 22. I don’t actually have many clothes (sad eh?) but I refused to buy loads of clothes every time I drop a size, although the tempation is always there because it’s quite novel being able to get into smaller clothes. It’s also a bit frustrating because I’m wearing the larger size clothes for as long as I have to and I end up looking like a sack of spuds! My bust doesn’t seem to have shrunk much, although it must have. I can definately see a difference on my waist. My belly and hips seem to be as huge as they always were. My bum has shrunk and so have my legs. In fact my ankles are getting quite skinny compared to the rest of me. My feet aren’t as fat and I can now go and buy ‘normal’ shoes instead of wide fitting shoes.

At the moment I’m in ‘all hail to George at Asda’ mode. Their ‘normal’ range clothes go up to a size 24 and it feels quite good to be buying a size 22, not the largest size they do and have to scout around incognito through the plus size clothing area. I have actually splashed out on some t-shirts. Well I say splashed out, they cost £3 each. Now I’m all for a bargain… and t-shirts to fit me at £3 each is a huge bargain in my book. I don’t mind paying £3 for a t-shirt that might only last me a couple of months. So I bought a few LOL. Well it is coming into summer and the ones I was wearing last year just do not fit.

I’m only one size away from some of the clothes I have stashed away in my wardrobe. So hopefully by the time summer does officially land, I will be wearing those clothes. I also have a few size 18 clothes, but I certainly can’t remember the last time I wore them. They’re pretty neutral clothes so they’ve not gone out of fashion.. I don’t think!! God.. imagine me wearing a size 18 clothes again. It’s been a loooong time.

The past couple of months have been a bit frustrating weight loss wise. It’s really slowed down and the most annoying thing is time of the month! For some reason my body has decided it’s a great idea to put 3lbs on that week. Why? No rhyme nor reason.. I just bloat. I didn’t do that for the first four months of losing weight, so why come and piss me off like that once a month now? Grrrrrr. It looks like I’m gaining weight from going off plan, but I’m not. It almost makes me feel like saying, sod it this week, I’m going to gain 3lbs because it’s time of the month, I might as well have a few extras that my body is screaming for. (carbs and biscuits). But I’ve managed to talk myself out of that frame of mind up to now.

I go to see the dietician again at the beginning of May. I’d lost almost 3 stone the last time I saw him. So now I’ve lost 4 stone 3lbs on Slimming World, but I’d lost a bit between my consultation with the dietician and starting SW. How nice would it be to have the dietician say “you’ve lost 5 stone”! 5 stone is my half way mark. Well, my half way in my head mark. For some reason the magic number is 10 stone. To lose 10 stone will mean I weigh 10 stone. That’s half my body weight lost. I will be exactly 50% smaller than I was at the beginning of October 2008! That is shocking the more I think about it. A whole other person! Jeezus! According to medical height v weight charts, I should weigh between 8 and a half stone and 9 and a half stone for my height and build. I don’t think I even weighed 9 and a half stone at school. It’s probably a bit early to be setting end target weights yet to be honest. I’m getting carried away. I should just keep chugging away at losing whatever I can for now and see where I end up. I do get a bit worried that I’ll get obsessive about it (I have a tendancy to get obsessive about things) and I will obsess with it until I drive myself demented. I know that I look pretty much ok at 12 and a half stone. That’s when people start to tell me the age old lines of .. oh don’t go losing any more, you’ll be too thin. or .. you’re starting to look ill.. you’ve lost too much. And then I get ‘oh you never weigh that much? You carry it well’. The thing is, people are used to seeing me a certain size.. extra large. They’ve forgotten what I look like slim. To be honest, so have I LOL. The last time I was 12 and a half stone, was 10 or so years ago, and I didn’t weigh that for very long. I think I spent a few years around 14 stone, then got pregnant and it all went to pot after that. Anyway, back to my point. People are used to seeing me big. Big round smiley face and a large presence in a room. So when I will no longer be like that (although I hope I’ll still have a smiley face) it scares people. They don’t know how to react to you. You’re still the same person inside, the same person your family have known and loved all these years, but on the outside you look different and they don’t know how to handle that. It is a bit disheartening when you’re feeling pretty damn good and everyone around you is telling you that you look ill, or don’t lose any more weight, you look like a bag of bones, even though you’re still in a size 16 clothes when you know that really you should be in a 12 or 14.

But that’s all a while away yet. The sun has been out here for over a week now. Practically unheard of in Britain during April! But it’s been lovely, and I don’t feel the fattest person around. That’s a good feeling! I’m not afraid to take my coat off. I don’t huff and puff walking from the car to the school to fetch my daughter from nursery. I’ve started to do a lot more exercise and more to the point, I’m enjoying the exercise. I was always sporty as a kid, even through my teens. I had my first baby and the sporty instinct vanished. But it seems to be returning, as long as no one is pushing me or forcing me to do it. I’m a solo exerciser at the moment, I prefer to exercise on my own, although I am considering going to Aqua Aerobics now that I’m brave enough to get into my swimming costume and more to the point, walk from the changing rooms to the swimming pool without dying of embarassment and shame first.

It’s funny how you become less self conscious as you shrink. I love my photography. That’s an understatement.. I adore my photography, especially motorsport photography, but I’ve always been so self conscious at the motorsport events. One reason is that it’s a very male dominated area of sport, including spectators, and I’ve always been very aware of myself being so big when I’ve been taking photographs because at the motorsport events I use a long lens. I mean a LOOOONG lens. The long lens on it’s own is enough to attract attention, so stick a fat lady behind it and that’s almost as entertaining to watch as the motorsport event itself. Well, maybe not, but that’s my perception. So I’d never get myself into a situation where I’d be looked at. I’d miss photographic opportunities, or shots I was dying to get because I didn’t want to put myself into that situation where I might be watched. How daft is that? But, as the weight is coming off, I’m far less self conscious and am beginning to enjoy being out ‘in the field’ so to speak with my camera. In fact, we’re going to Oulton Park Race Circuit this Saturday, and I can’t wait.. long lens included! I’ll be out there getting the shots!

  1. Kerry
    January 29, 2009 at 10:54 am

    Keep up the good work! Your blog is so invigorating and refreshingly honest! You are an inspiration to others xx

  2. caz bagby
    February 3, 2009 at 1:56 pm

    oh ann marie i am laffin out loud an cryin at the same time if u get me i think any one who has had a weight issue wud relate 2 everything u said hun an i not bein patronisin(cant fukin spell lol ) . was i that girl who u knew wen u first walked in hun??? im glad u a member an now a friend lol cxxxx

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