Yesterday was the day of my eight week fitness reassessment at my friendly local gym.
The results were all good....the consistency of going to the place four times a week has been measured and given undeniable results.
There were losses. According to their scales, my weight is down 8kgs.
The measurements were good too! Losses all over:
Biceps: (L) - 1cm (R) 1.5cm
Chest: - 3 cm
Waist: Hmmmm...some doubts about this, but checked twice, showing a loss of 25cms!
Hips: - 2.9 cm
Thighs: (L) - 3cm (R) - 3cm
Calf: (L) - 2 cm (R) - 2.8 cm
According to the official fitness test (5 minutes on the treadmill) I am still of below average fitness, but have shown significant improvement. My instructor expects that another 8 weeks and this will start to show "average" results. Whoopee! Oh to be average!
Overall I feel much encouraged by this. My instructor - without prompting - stated it was the biggest improvement he had seen in the shortest time. I hope he wasn't just being nice!
Anyway, if I can improve my fitness and loose weight at this rate every eight weeks I will be one very happy lady!
Sure it is still a long way to go, with many variations in hope to come, but at least it is a move in the right direction.
Made it through another week, and am happy to report a 1.2 kilogram loss.
This might be slow progress, but at least it is progress. After a couple of weeks heading towards going completely AWOL, to get to the stage of losing again is very rewarding and a great relief!
An overall loss of 6.1 kilograms in seven weeks is okay by me. Still have another kazillion kilos to go, but as the old cliche goes - all things worth doing take time.
June 8 marked my sixth week of this foray into the land of constant exercise and (sometime) good eating.
Things have not been easy on the eating side. Early determination soon gave into fear and fattness: feeling far too fat to be seen in public...a zillion kilograms to go...ugh!
The big eating returned, and then some....leading to a two week weight increase of 700 grams...followed by a third AWOL week of no weight increase or decrease. So not all is lost. Gym attendance is finally paying off.
So here I am - again - building this body one kilogram at a time.
Yeah well, seemed my new-found (some might say "short-lived") determination to lose weight might have seemed unlike me.
For the last two weeks I have lived with an undiminishing obsession with food....and it shows, with a weight gain of 0.6 kgs.
The gym sessions have been kept up, my waist measurement showing an overall loss (in four weeks) of 9cm - from 115cm down to 106cm.
My body still looks beyond revolting in the flesh, and nothing (other than my waist) shows any signs of reducing. In fact, my new smaller waist appears to make all else around it look larger and flabbier...can that be possible? Ugh!
Anyway, no amount of exercise is going to cure this if I can't get a handle on the food bit.
The past seven days have seen a loss of merely 100grams.
Sure, a loss is a loss, but at a rate of 100grams per week it will be a long long time before dropping my excess 70 kilograms.
Truth of the matter, there have been some short cuts taken with food this week. I have felt deprived when I shouldn't have, and pre-occupied with food...bad and fattening foods. I have had little resistance, and next to no deterimation. Without the 'Big D' I am exposed to the risk of feeling my own ways - feeling under-fed, never feeling full or satisfied, always on the look for more.
At least the exercise has been continued with four visits to the gym, and at least one decent long coastal walk, featuring hills and tough sand dunes.
It's a matter of the ole dieters' dilemma: how to get back on track? How to face up to what needs to be done. How to find a way to ahead? How to find a way to not completely give up? How to find a way not to feel constantly depressed by a short glimpse at the body I catch sight of a the gym, or in shop window reflections?
Then again, if I knew the answer to these questions, chances are I wouldn't be the big blubbery mess I am now.
Been too busy to post. What with my heavy schedule dedicated to remembering to not eat fattening food, and labouring over preparing healthy food to eat, posting time has been in short supply.
There is also my routine of going to the gym. If I can walk up the hill leading to the front door of the gym, I am okay. Getting there is full of all sorts of mind tortures. Although no one takes any notice of big ole fat ole me, I still feel way out of place and way unfit.
Still I perservere!
It is going to be ages before I see any signs of improvement. In my second week I lost 1.2 kgs, making a total loss of 5.4 kgs. Some days I almost convince myself of a difference, whereas most of the time I suspect the loss of fat is just leaving me with more dimpled skin needing to find a place to go.
How firm can a 42 year old body become? Especially after having been very unfirm for many years? Is this regular exercise going to show up anything pleasant, or have I finally faced up to my body grotesque-ness for no other reason than to feel hopeless about a solution.
I want to have something other than a tummy-tuck, breast lift and reduction, extensive liposuction waiting for me at the end of all of this...don't know about my chances though!
First official weigh in. I have lost 4.2 kgs in weight, plus 2 cms off my waist. Four sessions at the gym have been completed.
This is a great start! Yet I am cautious enough to know it won't always go this well. The weight will come off more slowly.
Consistency is the key. I need to repeat this week many times over. Fat little baby steps. One foot unsteadily before the other. A tumble here and frequent falls on my chubby face.
Bruised I will be, but if steady progression leads me to better health and fitness then the effort will be well worth it.
My itinerate gym usage has been a reoccurring theme in my life. Starting with a blast in 1984. a backyard shed that doubled as a former weight lifting champion's commercial gymnasium. There I lifted free-weights with the best of 'em. Doing sit ups, bench presses, dead lifts and the like. For the first time in my life I had become super fit. Only thing is, I never really appreciated it. I'd walk up steep hills for miles every day. Now the slight incline at the entry of McFatgirl gym is difficult enough. Attending the gym several times a week I soon developed nicely muscled upper arms, and that was years ahead of the current cult of well-muscled femmes. My weight stuck to the 64 kg mark.
Since then, my gym attendance has been a mixed lot; female only centres, glamour meeting places for the physically fit poseur, and no-thrills local authority sporting and aquatic stadiums. My routine has been patchy, my injury related restrictions numerous. Never have I come close to the fitness levels of before. I am left to wonder what kind of body is hidden under this 137 kg bulk, and what is the best my 42 years will allow.
This time a change has to occur; a commitment to very regular attendance and to persevere no matter how junior my workout might seem. Doing simple stretches next to a sprightly woman twice my age (and half my size!) lifting weights while bent over backwards and balancing across a fit-ball is kind of depressing!
I ceaselessly remind myself that some gym activity is better than no gym activity. That I have to start somewhere, and despite my many physical limitations I do get puffy and sweaty for a reason. My body will say thanks....eventually!
Anyone who carries excess weight has to find a way to learn to live with those who feel the need to comment about that extra weight.
On Thursday I waddled my way into a bedding store. Mission to buy one queen size bed and base. My lower back rejoicing at the promise of a new bed. (Note I said "queen", not super-duper-extra-ginormous-Henry VIII sized.)
Mid-way through salesman PloddyMcPlodPlod's sale spiel he blurted out something about being "heavy", as in needing a ten inch thick steel reinforced bed base along with having the house foundations strengthened in order to support my massive bulky self.
Normally I would cry at such a comment, then possibly eat my own weight in yummy chocolate somethings. This time, having already resolved to not only reduce my weight, but to increase my physical fitness, I did not flinch. Instead, I allowed him to continue his insulting sales pitch before leaving with my promise to return the next day to make my purchase.
The bed store down the road was only too happy to be the recipient of my $1830 for the purchase of a new bed ensemble. All done without the whiff of a dodgey personal sales pitch.
Extra weight should be no more of a free pass to insult than any other physical difference. There is a great probability that the excess weight carrying person may already have some clue as to their physical dimensions. No need to point out the bleeding obvious!
I have been taking a looong look at the avatar (to the right) which is my face - as of yesterday. I'd advise against anyone doing the same. It could be damaging to good health.
Not sure when I became a no-neck chubby cheeked jowl monster, but only recently did I discover I have a pug face.
The weight that is accumulating above my shoulders (well, the fat is running out of space to attach itself to my body!) to the point where my face has become "compacted" meaning the shape of my mouth has morphed into something I do not recognise.
If I relax my facial muscles for long enough to looki into the mirror, I see my face is running, dripping into my jowls. This gives me the look of an angry person with a nasty downturned mouth. It ain't a pretty site.
So why (I ask the Patron Saints of Weight Loss) why did I do my best to ignore my hanging stomach, my drooping breasts, my sagging buttocks, and my rubbing inner thighs for years but one first sight of my jowling angry face I go into action?
Oh well! I suppose with all important changes, taking too long to make change pales into significance if never making a change is the other alternative.
