My favourite jeans...they ermm shrunk in the wash right.
And that little bit of wobble around my middle is just...well...winter warming you know!
None of it was snapping me back into fitness, even when someone who was once a close friend, now almost a stranger said to me that I had put on weight, you know what let's quote: "Isn't it funny how you've gotten chubby, no longer a size ten ay"
Even as angry as that comment made me, it did not damage my confidence.
Let's clarify, I am not fat. My BMI is tip top, but yeah, I've put on a little chub, and the hard smooth lines of tone are nowhere to be seen. I've let myself go a little while making excuses.
In the end it only took one moment, one dress:
One dress, one perfectly manufactured, new in season, pink (I never wear pink I know! but it was pink) pencil skirt cut, strapless, sleeveless, sexy, cotton candy, Marilyn Monroe dress. That dress, and me in a moment that felt like the beginning of war, staring in a floor length mirror, that dress and myself. The dress was faultless, I however...had a lot to atone for.
The word 'Whale' came to mind, then I decided I was being a little harsh, so I downgraded the word Whale for Seal. Blubber, and squish, and wobble.
There's something about changing rooms, all those mirrors, and those bloody sales assistants who are no bigger than a size?...what! what size are you? There's no stomach, there's just air and something a bit like a stick! There's something about the damn shop not stocking more than ONE size 12 but having several 8's that makes you feel like a lump of lard rather than a woman.
I know about fashion, I watch Gok Wan, I know there are certain dresses that look Bond Girl Gorgeous on one woman's figure while making another look like a tin of beans, it's a lot about body shape; apple, pear, hourglass, pencil...you just throw it back on the rack and find something else. But this wasn't like that. This pink dress should have looked ok, I should not have felt like I was holding my confidence in tatters as I stuffed myself back into my jeans and boots-the mountain hiking kind of boots, not the sexy knee high black ones. I've worn my jeans too much lately.
I wanted that dress so much I think the blood was being squeezed from my fingers, I could have bought it too, the money crisp and ready to be spent. But I ruined it, the sex bomb I wanted to look back at me from the mirror was instead a young woman looking a little bit devastated and a little bit ashamed...a lot ashamed.
So...to hell with that! I left that shop with a mind to fix this...this pathetic moment I had found myself in. No way in hell was I going to be the woman in a changing room feeling like a lump. I wont have it. I stopped the excuses that day, signed up to the gym that week- no shortcuts, no halfway attempts. This is hardcore...I'm paying monthly so I know I'll go and get my money's worth, regular days plus any extra I can do too. Cookies for breakfast are banned, treats during the day demolished. I'm on a set diet with mainly fruit and a lot of tuna-I like tuna. I've got my goal in place, I know what I want to be and when. I'm 1 month in, another 3 months until my goal date.
Tonight after work I wasn't in the mood, but I forced myself out of the door. Because this is the first time I've ever really wanted this. Before I just wanted something to do, something to be a part of. This time it's serious. I wont stay in that moment in the changing room. I will defeat that moment and succeed.