So this week-end I dugged out my collection of bikinis. I tried them on, and immediately had a mini heart-attack just by watching the front of me!
I think the episode where I fall of the wagon just came back to bite me in the face.
Before I had children I was a serious gym bunny. I had the sort of confidence you could bottle and make your fortune from. These days it feels like I now have the ability to gain weight by osmosis. I have to run down the catering in the supermarket for fear of having my cells expand just by breathing in too deeply near the caramelizing ribs.
I have blamed my defective genes (why didn't I get the ones which mean you snap back into shape?), my other half (he's killing me with kindness when he nags me to have a moelleux au chocolat, which is a chocolate cake with melting chocolate in it); even my children have been held responsible for making me love them more than going to the gym.
But this has to stop. For my health and for my sanity. So I am going to shape up. It's time. First step will be to try a yoga class, baby steps first...
Will tell you more about this tomorrow... But for now, there is no way I'm going to traumatize myself by trying to see my back side!
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