As I gingerly stepped onto the scales, a voice that mimicked Bridget Jones popped into my head.
Weight: Four million kilos.
Chocolate units: Three Freddo Frogs stolen from the kids’ stash, one cold Milo, one hot Milo.
Alcohol units: Kids acting particularly whingey – half a bottle required.
I hopped off the scales and gritted my teeth. ‘Stupid bloody scales,’ I muttered to myself like a crazed woman.
I hopped back on ever so carefully lest a single inhalation of air add another gram. Surely I’d mistaken the original figure I’d seen. Alas, there was no error. Those stupid bloody scales blinked the same figure back at me chastising me for being over generous with my Milo portions.
*Screams internally and grabs another Freddo frog*
Ever since I was diagnosed with premature menopause last year and started HRT, my weight has gone up and up. My specialist warned me I may gain a few kilos from the treatment, so it’s not as though this weight gain has come out of the blue. While some people would heed the specialist’s warning and be more mindful of what they eat or exercise a little more to counteract the effects of the therapy, I went in the other direction.
I had myself a little pity party. A pity party with chocolate and cake and wine and chips and bagels. It was one hell of a party. It kicked off in August and it’s still raging now. I figured that if the odds were against me regarding my weight, I may as well enjoy myself. I will be fat and happy, so take that stupid HRT.
There’s only one problem with that logic. I’m not happy when I’m a little heavier. I’m not happy when my clothes feel tight, my bras don’t fit, and I stand with my arms covering my stomach in an attempt to hide the bulge.
This isn’t the first time in my life I’ve felt a little heavier than I am comfortable with. When I returned from living in the UK, I’d suffered from what they call the Heathrow injection. A few years of partying, pasties and pints had caught up on me and I was the biggest I’d ever been.
It wasn’t until Dave proposed to me that I decided I wanted to shed some weight and look my best for our wedding. We set the wedding just 10 months after he proposed, so I didn’t have a lot of time to muck around. I signed up for Tony Ferguson and exercised like the Energizer Bunny on speed. I woke before 5am every morning for a walk and played netball twice a week. That coupled with a diet of shakes and not much else saw my weight plummet.
I felt fit, healthy and strong and loved my slimmer body. I swore to myself that I would never get to my former weight again.
And here I was standing on those scales. I’d not only reached that weight, but I’d surpassed it.
*Cue another internal scream*
Now, I know a lot of you will be thinking, ‘… what is this skinny cow talking about? I’ve seen photos of her and she looks okay to me.’ I also suspect many of you will be thinking I should throw my scales out the window.
You’re probably right. The truth in the matter is however, that I’ve reached the point that no matter what the scales say, I’m no longer comfortable in my own skin. I don’t feel healthy. I’m sluggish and have a negative body image.
I know that my confidence and happiness will soar if I can shed the weight I’ve put on since commencing my treatment.
So, what am I going to do about it?
I’ve started exercising again. I’ve just started swimming two mornings a week and hope to return to Xtend Barre classes in the near future.
I’m also being mindful of what I’m eating. I’m an emotional eater and whenever I’m feeling blue or stressed, I eat. I eat, eat, eat and then eat some more. I’m reducing my portions and attempting to save sweet treats for special occasions … like last weekend when Coles had Baileys ice cream on sale. Ahem.
These are only small steps for now, but I believe they are steps in the right direction to reclaiming a body I feel comfortable in.
Are you an emotional eater? Do you own a set of scales? What do you do to ensure you remain fit and healthy? What crazy diets have you been on?
Linking up today with EssentiallyJess for IBOT.