So – I just bought a new set of scales from Fitbit. After some coupon codes and electing for ‘whenever the fuck it gets here’ shipping, the whole thing came out to £35, which is awesome. Also – who the fuck have I become? Double also – I am writing this with a lacto-free milk coffee next to me. Don’t worry, I also hate myself, enough for all of us. The thing is, maybe I also… don’t?!
Somewhere between being obese and now, some science has taken place. Through a series of calculated sessions at my #1 eatery; Snacks & Ladders, it has become painfully aware to me that I have two major changes to make;
- Gluten intolerance is a real thing. So pizza, burgers and pasta at my current rate of consumption are swelling me up to the size of a bowling ball.
- Lactose might be delicious – but when it also makes you look like a bowling ball – it sucks.
In summery, all the best foods in the world are making me the size of 2 bowling balls – or Katie Price circa 2011 – but instead of 2 giant boobs, they’re combined – and my stomach. That was a stretch, but we got there. This came to a head on Monday when, at basketball, I ballooned with gluten-belly and had to leave the court and use a public restroom. If you know me at all, you’ll know I’ve used fewer than 10 bathrooms on the Isle of Wight since moving here in 2011. Public bathrooms are the devil and I hate them, I hate them, I hate them.
My weight and body disdain isn’t a new phenomena to me, however the aspiration to actually do something about it is. Through some trial and error, my diet has taken a left. From overnight oats to fewer processed foods and adding more fruits and shit, I am actually cooking and being aware of what goes into my body. Oh – and I joined a gym again. Only this time, I am actually going. Shit, there’s also now a treadmill in my house. My personal trainer has been impressed with me so far. Urgh, I also also got a personal trainer – his name is Chris and he’s in better shape than me, whilst also being older. The bastard.
Not long ago, I was most impressed if my evening was spent playing Rocket League, chatting with the boys on discord and maybe drinking 2l of Dr Pepper alongside a KFC.
Last night, I ran a consistent 2.5miles in 25 minutes – and I was *checks notes* … disappointed in stopping? Yeah, that. Matt started dragging me to Basketball after my breakup, because he’s a good friend. We were both absolutely shocking at it – but we kept going. 2 years later, I’m not happy if the 90 minute session has me doing fewer than 9000 steps or my BP isn’t consistently over 160.
My body is not shifting the weight as much as I was hoping – but there are changes being noticed. My cardio is much, much better. My sleep is a lot more restful and I have not had a Dr Pepper in over a year.
Am I in the best shape of my life? No. However, for the first time in years, it feels like I could get there. At 35 years old, it’s not snapping back how it used to – but I am smaller, muscles are now just at surface level and I’m not disgusted in myself when catching glimpse of a mirror.
I’ll get there, and I finally believe in that.
