I am fat.
There, I have typed it, there's no getting away from it now. In the last few years my weight and my clothes size have crept up, and up, and up. I look at myself in photographs and don't recognise the woman I've become. Now don't get me wrong, I've never been sylphlike, I have a bust, and a bum and a waist, all of which I quite like actually. But I also have a double chin, and muffin top and back fat and various other far less attractive characteristics, and they're sitting like a layer on top of the real me, blurring the edges and slowing me down.
I have lots of excuses for being fat, none of which are very good:
I say: I have sole care of two small children and can't go to the gym or go swimming once they're in bed. I don't say: I have a Wii fit though, and a step machine, and I'm not exactly knocking the door down of the local baths when my husband's home at the weekend.
I say: I am breastfeeding, which burns 500 calories a day, so pass the cake. I don't say: My child is now on solids and feeding much less than she used to, plus that tub of ice-cream probably contains 2000 calories. I am heavier now than I was during most of my pregnancy.
I say: I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome which makes it difficult to lose weight I don't say: I spend too much time sitting on the sofa under the laptop.
Ten weeks ago I got on the Wii Fit and had a bit of a shock. I inputted my height. Five feet six and a half inches. That half makes all the difference you know. I stood still, feet hip width apart, as the computer took measure of me. It calculated and spat out a result. Obese. My BMI had hit 30. The little computer icon I'd chosen for myself widened perceptibly on the screen. There's something a bit sad about selecting an alter ego much slimmer than your real self. I marched with the band, 'cycled' and hula hooped on the special board, wondering how I'd let myself get to this stage.
Nine weeks ago, when my husband moved out, I decided to do something about it. Not having anyone to slob on the sofa with in the evening is a great incentive to get the stepper out, and however much I want a tub of ice-cream at eight o'clock there's no-one to leave the children with to go and buy one. So I don't. To save time, and money, I'm now eating my evening meal with them at 5 o'clock preventing the late-night carb loading I was previously so guilty of.
Today I stood on the scales. I have lost 13 pounds!
I am still fat of course.
So today I celebrate having reduced my BMI by two points, taking me into the Overweight category, but give myself a push to keep going.
I would like to lose another ten pounds by the time I go back to work, that's one and a little bit a week. Then I'll set my next goal. Doable, right?
If I write it here, put those numbers I'm ashamed of down on paper (well, screen) there's no getting away from it.
Was: 13st 9lb
Now: 12st 10lb
Next: 12st 0lb
So who's with me?!