Weight Loss Zoltar

At the beginning of the year, I decided that to celebrate my 40^th in July, there would be a calendar of events and I would spend as much time as I could celebrating my “big birthday”. These events have included trips to the theatre, a “Come Dine with Me” competition with friends, weekends away, ghost hunts, a spa day, scarecrow making (don’t ask) afternoon tea and then a couple of amazing holidays.

  It’s safe to say that by the time I stepped off the plane last week at the end of what was technically the last in the calendar of events, I was well aware that not only did I have 7 months of amazingly happy memories, I also had a slightly expanded waistline!

  So from a calendar of birthday events to a Christmas countdown. I unashamedly use the “C” word, “The X Factor” is back and “Strictly Come Dancing” starts this weekend and everyone knows that means Christmas is on the way.

  There’s 13 weeks until the big man arrives, so even if I only lose a pound a week, that’s almost a stone gone.

  As with all great plans, they start with getting on the scales…. Well maybe not all great plans, I’m sure when Christopher Columbus set sail for the new world, he didn’t say “wait a sec chaps, I just need to see how much I weigh before I set off and make history”.

  However, that’s exactly how my plan began (not the new world bit) I got on my scales in my bathroom and had a little cry, according to them I’d put on 5 stones… was that possible? I got off and on again only to discover that I’d now lost 10 stone and was bordering on dangerously thin. I haven’t spent years reading mystery novels not to not have learnt some detective skills. I deduced my scales were about as reliable as the England football team at a major international tournament!

  Heading to the gym, I thought I’d use their all singing, all dancing scales, the ones that measure your height, weight, BMI, shoe size, length of your hair etc. 

   I’d given myself a stern talking to all the way to the gym, that even if the changing room was full, I would still get on them. I would brave the embarrassment of putting my pound in the machine and stepping on them. What did it matter if people were in there? It’s not like they’d be able to hear what I weighed! However ideal scenario…. The changing room would be empty (cue my use of visualization techniques)

  Walking into the changing room, I realized I was good at this visualization malarkey…. The changing room was empty! I made a note to work on the “me and Matt Goss get married visualisation”

  I put my pound in

*** changing room door opens, in walks two thin women***

I take my shoes off and step on the scale

*** changing room door opens again, in walks another woman*

I grab the side handles of the scales…

At that point, a great secret was revealed, it turns out the scales at my gym are the weighing equivalent of flipping Zoltar.

It’s big booming voice echoed all over the changing room “If you want to know your BMI, keep holding on to the handles”

  I could feel myself start to flush scarlet… how far would weight loss Zoltar go? Would he announce to the world my vital statistics, or would I find myself being turned into a 12-year-old forced to launch a comedy style mission to find weight loss Zoltar so I could turn myself back, whilst learning a few important life lessons along the way and cementing my lifelong friendships?

  I began hoping for number 2…. anything rather than those numbers being read out loud!

  Fortunately, weight loss Zoltar then shut his face and simply printed me off a ticket with a helpful suggestion of a goal weight.

  Whilst the ticket didn’t make for pretty reading, I’ve decided it probably deserves a place in my memory book, if only because it signifies the start of phase 2 of the calendar of events. A calendar that involves trips to the gym!

Romantic Notions

Ever since I first saw the film “Baby Boom”, I’ve had romantic notions about packing my bags moving to a small town with a population of 50. There I would meet the man of my dreams, who coincidentally would be the only single man in the town, devilishly handsome with a winning personality, a cracking sense of humour and is the local vet. The reality is I’d probably move there, they wouldn’t welcome me because “I wasn’t from these parts” and the only single man would be in his 80’s and not looking for a long term relationship!

  I have similar such notions with yoga. Ever since Geri Halliwell quit the Spice Girls, dyed her hair a subtler shade of strawberry blonde and ditched the Union Jack dress for yoga pants, I have wanted to take up yoga. As the images of Geri doing yoga on the beach in her bikini, whilst NBF George Michael sat there watching, I’ve wanted to take up yoga. Then I could practice my downward facing dog on the beach, whilst my 80’s popstar best friend watched on.

  Last night, my romantic notion became a reality! Although there was no beach involved, no George Michael and I certainly wasn’t a demurer version of Ginger Spice!

  Despite having a hacking cough, I thought it would be a good idea to go along to Body Balance, a hybrid of yoga and Pilates. By the time Lucy and I had got our matts, the only spaces left in the class were right at the front. That in itself was bad enough, but my spot was not only right at the front…. But right in front of the teacher!

  Even when it’s a class I’ve done for a while, I really don’t like standing in front of the teacher, there’s that awkward moment, where you can’t avoid eye contact, you might go the wrong way and bang into them and most importantly EVERYONE ELSE CAN SEE YOU!

  As I practiced my sun salutations and moved into warrior pose, I felt less Geri Halliwell and more Jerry Springer.

“Turn your chest and open it towards the sun” purred the teacher as she stood firm in warrior pose and arched her back. I couldn’t stop the thought of if I turned my chest towards the sun, I’d probably cause a total eclipse!

  In downward facing dog, presented me with two worrying situations

1   1) The man facing me was pretty much getting a full on view down my top! I imagine the sight of my scaffolding like sports bra combined with my jelly belly was hardly adding to his serene and calming experience.

      2) There was every chance I would be suffocated by my own boobs.

I thought by the time we got to the hip stretches I had nailed it, but it turned out my stretches were the body balance equivalent of Joey from “Friends” learning how to speak French.

  At the end of the class as we all lay on the floor and “put down the troubles of our day” and breathed ourselves into a relaxing state, it became apparent that I couldn’t even do that! Having a cough and laying still isn’t really an option so I spent 10 minutes trying not to choke to death, so that I didn’t disturb the class! Fortunately, I was saved by a lady who burst into the room thinking it was the start of the class. She caused such a kerfuffle, I was able to sneak in a cheeky cough.

  So my romantic notion, didn’t quite live up to the reality! But I’m pretty willing to bet before Geri did a handstand on the beach in public, she fell on her ass a few times. So I’ll go back next week only this time, I’ll do the following

1) I'll take my own matt, so I can stand at the back

2) Wear a high neck t-shirt

2    3) Spend the next week trying to convince an 80’s pop star to be my NBF and come to class with me!

When More Nos Equal More Yeses

I’m just going to say it, three weeks after really getting to grips with “operation love my Heart” and my little plaque proudly displays, these little numbers.

I’m so proud of myself! Proud because I’ve stuck to what I promised myself I would!

  Now I’ve always been the sort of person, who’s pretty much up for anything, which is probably how I found myself camping in the jungle with a group of soldiers and abseiling down the side of Nottingham Forest Football club.

  Somehow my fun "yeses" got turned into not so fun "yeses", and I found the time I had for me getting less and less and the things I wanted or sometimes needed to do getting put on the backburner. I don’t like ironing any more than the next person, but sometimes you’ve got to get it done!

  So two weeks ago when my sister Lucy signed up to join my gym, I said “yes” to giving her my password to my online booking and agreed to try various classes, on the proviso that if I REALLY hated something or suffered injury I didn’t have to go again!

  Every bit of me wanted to say “no”, but a promise is a promise and what is it they say ....

  We started off with aqua Zumba, which in fairness, won me round immediately…. Dancing in the water? What’s not to love? Alright it was hardly the famous lake scene from “Dirty Dancing”, but there was a classic Aha track on the playlist for good measure and afterwards we gossiped in the hot tub.

  Then there was the yoga…. This class started and ended with 10 minutes laying on the floor…. This baby sells itself! I didn’t care that I’d accidentally positioned myself next to Bendy McBendyface the bendiest woman in all of bendyland.

Next up was body combat. This is basically pretending to punch and kick things in time to music. Great for stress levels and I slept like a baby afterwards!

  Finally, today it was Just Jhoom, which is my favourite gym class! It’s basically a Bollywood version of Zumba.

  To allow me to fit all of this in, I’ve said “no” to some stuff I don’t want to do!

  It’s not just been the exercise, I’ve said “no” to biscuits in meetings, I said “no” when someone offered me a cake to take home and I’ve politely declined taking on a work project that ultimately would be of no benefit to my business.

  So if I take all my nos and add them to my yeses, do you know what I got? 3 ½ pounds off! That’s what I got!

  Tomorrow I’ve said yes to going spinning and unless the teacher looks like Matt Goss and is naked, this might get added to my “no’s” for next week