Something truly wondrous has happened. Indeed, truly wondrous. And I'm not one given to exaggeration, which of course you all know by now.
Last year I bought a pair of denim shorts from Next. Denim shorts used to be my uniform of choice in the UAE, teamed with a vest, and I thought this look might suit the outback. And as far as I was concerned a size 14 would be plenty big enough. Plenty!
It wasn't. Oh I managed to wrestle myself into them, after a stint lying flat on the bed and a lot of not breathing, but once I was upright again the look was sort of, err, muffin-that-won't-stop-expanding-in-the-oven-and-has-now-spilled-over-onto-the-rest-of-the-tray-chic. In short I looked like Vicky Pollard.
And so, I struggled back out of them and sent them to the deepest, darkest bottom drawer of hatred, a place reserved for a worrying large proportion of my clothing.
But today, most precious reader, emboldened by a particularly good weigh-in (on the verge of tipping into the 60s - any day now), and feeling particularly light and slim of waist, I decided to see if the banished shorts might fit any better.
Reader, they slid on and buttoned up without a whisper of protest and I am now full of renewed resolve (I had been contemplating a mid-week bottle of red to share with DH, but not now!).
So today's lesson is this: the hard slog of working out day in and day out, not to mention sacrificing the mid-week wine, can be demoralising at times and you will feel like quitting. Quite a lot in fact. Certainly during this process so far I've had many, many moments like this. But no scale, no measuring tape, nothing, can make you feel as good as slipping into something previously unfittable. This makes it all worth while.
So one goal has been reached and the next is in view, namely the size 12 denim shorts sitting sadly in that same, dark drawer.
Last year I bought a pair of denim shorts from Next. Denim shorts used to be my uniform of choice in the UAE, teamed with a vest, and I thought this look might suit the outback. And as far as I was concerned a size 14 would be plenty big enough. Plenty!
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| Apologies for the selfie of my crotch, but it had to be done. |
And so, I struggled back out of them and sent them to the deepest, darkest bottom drawer of hatred, a place reserved for a worrying large proportion of my clothing.
But today, most precious reader, emboldened by a particularly good weigh-in (on the verge of tipping into the 60s - any day now), and feeling particularly light and slim of waist, I decided to see if the banished shorts might fit any better.
Reader, they slid on and buttoned up without a whisper of protest and I am now full of renewed resolve (I had been contemplating a mid-week bottle of red to share with DH, but not now!).
So today's lesson is this: the hard slog of working out day in and day out, not to mention sacrificing the mid-week wine, can be demoralising at times and you will feel like quitting. Quite a lot in fact. Certainly during this process so far I've had many, many moments like this. But no scale, no measuring tape, nothing, can make you feel as good as slipping into something previously unfittable. This makes it all worth while.
So one goal has been reached and the next is in view, namely the size 12 denim shorts sitting sadly in that same, dark drawer.
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