This morning I went to the gym. Seriously, it’s true. I decided that I’d give it one more try (and by that I mean one more attempt at going regularly, not just one more visit!). If I still hate it with a passion, I’ll give up my membership and be done with it. So, armed with my new gym outfit (what bliss not to look like a sack in a baggy t-shirt and nasty tracksuit bottoms) I left the house just after 7 this morning and less than an hour later I found myself sticking my ipod in my ears and stepping on to the cross trainer.
And honestly? It wasn’t that bad at all. It’s amazing what a difference the weight loss has made. I always used to feel that I stuck out a mile in the gym … being red, sweaty, wobbly and out of breath. This morning I was still red, sweaty, wobbly and out of breath, but I didn’t feel twice the size of everyone else in there. I blended in. It reminded me of the discussions my group had right at the beginning of foundation about the desire to be normal, to disappear into the crowd and not be noticed … and about how weird it might sound to thin people that all we wanted was to be delightfully, blissfully, boringly average. Well, I achieved that averageness this morning, and it felt good. So I shall be going back on Wednesday morning.
The weekend was fantastic. We drove to Wiltshire on what was reputedly the worst day on the roads since time began and suffered nothing more than a minor delay outside Stonehenge. The picnic went off like a dream, the weather was marvellous and a great time was had by all. It was a terribly English day involving strawberries and cricket and the like. All that was missing was Pimm’s. The heat and the promise of a free pub breakfast had us up early on Sunday and we were back in London by lunchtime … plenty of time for a relaxing Sunday at home before the impending doom of work on Monday morning. Fantastic.
I was pretty well behaved, food-wise. I had bread for the first time in ages, as most of the picnic revolved around sandwiches, and coped OK. Bread is one of my triggers, definitely. I’m the kind of person (or should I put that in the past tense?) who can happily eat her way through half a loaf of bread without blinking. So it was an interesting test for me. I was aware, though, that I felt quite bloated after eating it. I know it’s terribly fashionable to have ‘issues’ with wheat, but it reinforced my intention to attempt the gluten-free option when I start making my own bread again (although I’ve been warned that it tastes disgusting). Again I was struck by my ability to ignore food. I can happily sit back, surrounded by piles of delicious food, and not feel the urge to eat until I think I might explode. I don’t know the psychology behind this, but I’m the kind of person that needs to clear things away and tidy up (it drives the Boy mad when I say ‘have you finished?’ when he’s merely resting his fork for thirty seconds) and I obviously viewed eating as a way of clearing up. I don’t think it was merely greed … it was something different. In many respects I truly was a human dustbin. Well, not any more. I still don’t like leaving debris lying around after a meal, but can switch off happily after I’ve eaten and not worry about the fact there are still four plates of egg sandwiches left untouched, for example.
Tonight is weigh-in night as I was unable to make it last Thursday. I’ve missed two sessions in a row, which is very risky. So I get to find out the sorry truth this evening. Am I managing my diet or do I need to be brought back into line? Well, I’ll let you know tomorrow …