Re-start Yoga in attempt to re-find myself (find self under the flab rather than spiritually).
Stop yoga (too much self-frottage for my liking).
Go on holiday and eat ever increasing body-weight in truffley pasta.
Weigh more than ever. Think about joining the gym. Reject it on financial grounds.
Spend Christmas with in-laws. Mother-in-law approaches feeding in the classic wee wifey tradition of all the Scotches. Typical post three course dinner conversation:
“Now. What’ll you have?”
“Oh nothing thanks, I’m stuffed”
“What about a bit of cake, or fruit? I have kiwi … orange … or biscuits, try one of these lovely chocolate ginger biscuits I bought.”
“No, no, really. I can't”
“Or a tea? Mint, camomile, normal ...”
“Oh, OK I’ll have a tea”
“Do you want a wee biscuit with that? Or a bit of cake …” (Repeat ad infinitum).
Purchase new sports bra and more flattering (read: larger) gym trousers.
Discover I have at least 6 months before I’m going to get pregnant decide I should really use this time to get fit. All I need is a strategy …
… still thinking hard about fitness possibilities.
Have eye operation am told not to swim for a month. Take ‘swimming’ to encompass all types of exercise.
Discover fantastic long term solution to avoid gym but get fit. Spend equivalent of a month and a half’s gym membership on new shoes that promise to make me walk like an African warrior simultaneously allowing me to stand tall and tone every muscle from my stomach downwards .
Problem: they are fucking ugly. And not in a 'so bad they are good' way (see gladiator sandals). In a "I am a teenage Emo with green hair who thinks that thick soled black shoes will be an outward manifestation of the abject loneliness and rejection of society that I feel". Every time I wear them I feel like I have to apologise for submitting any by-passer to such a vile vision.
They don't get out much.
Holiday. Swim three lengths of pool in villa. Exercise curtailed by gecko deciding it wanted to swim with me, burrowing into my bikini and precipitating the fastest 5 meter swim sprint I have ever managed. Feel disinclined to repeat the process.
Struck down with the plague. Short of breath, too ill to exercise. Whilst at Doctors have blood pressure taken am told it looks a bit high. Get worried.
Another night on my arse, laptop on knee, notice stomach is spilling onto lap top.
That's not right.
Yup, the expensive one. I could find cheaper but they are further away than the gold-plated version and any additional barrier I put in the way of going is another cream cake on the table of weight gain. Also this one has a pool and swimming is about the only form of exercise I actually
Using the scales in the gym I discovered that I am a stone lighter than I thought I was. I credit this extraordinary weight loss to a combination of: my sister's dodgy scales (I don't allow scales in my house); only weighing myself in the evening on said scales when I go round to hers; loss of appetite during the plague. Don't get me wrong I am still a stone heavier than I'd like but not the two stone I feared. Bit of a relief really as I was starting to worry I was suffering from body dysmorphia - believing myself to be two stone over weight but still feeling pretty good about myself when I prance round the flat in my smalls.
So I swam twenty lengths before the combination of leaky goggles and coughing at the end of each length forced me to give up. But it is a start, right?
I'm now taking bets in the comments section on how long you reckon this will last.