I wanted to write a 'Warring with my Waistline Part 3', but alas I couldn't. For one, the battle of the bulge still continues, my thighs are still trying to take over the world, and I can't seem to keep my sticky fingers off chocolate. However, there has been some developments.
Yes, I bit the bullet after watching my twin brothers chowing down on boiled chicken and broccoli, throwing in some weights and squats, and returning home from the gym looking extremely buff and a darn sight happier, despite the fact that they are now so built their arms don't touch their sides. But you know what? I wanted a piece of that action (minus boiled chicken and Arnie arms). So I took my husband and father - moral support, and made them sign up with me.
Now I thought I was getting pretty fit. I run for half an hour every day on the treadmill, whip out the sporadic lunge, and always try to watch what I eat even when I see a titanic sized piece of cake heading for my gob. I thought I could handle a personal training session basically aimed at smashing me to pieces until I'm reassembled about fifteen kilos lighter (I want to wear a sequinned bikini and see the bottom half unobstructed as I look down). I thought I could do about a gazillion squats while froggy jumping across the room, fist pump four kilogram hand weights into the air like I had a point to prove, and walk down a set of stairs afterwards without face-planting other patrons or equipment.
You know what? I damn well did it.
Yes, I may have been crying on the inside. I may have split my pants just a little bit. I may have had to grip the handrail on the staircase on descent, and I may have had to swallow back a few mouthfuls of bile, but by God I bloody did it. The crazy thing is I'm going back for more.
However, this state of 'more' may have to wait a few days since I'm practically a cripple right now, but I will go back and I will conquer. I will post a 'Warring with my Waistline Part 3' and there will be photos that don't make you want to gag.
Hell yes I'm doing this.
I may just have to buy new pants first ... and a walking stick.