I am rocking a very motivated attitude this week. And I’m pretty happy about that.
I have about 1.5 stones to lose to get down to my ideal weight. It was 2 stones, but apparently the ‘scorned woman’ weight loss plan is really fucking good.
In this burst of motivation, I have decided to do what I can to wave goodbye to this excess weight. I want to feel fit and healthy, and I want to look good in my clothes.
So I have been eating healthily. This is the easy bit, because I just eat what the kids eat. Bar the biscuits I throw to them to silence the incessant nagging.
That doesn’t happen that often. Honest.
It’s going well. But last night, I tried something new.
The fitness DVD.
This is the obvious choice of exercise for a woman stuck at home in the evening with three sleeping children. I mean, I know I’m already running around all day, and speed walking up to school because I left the house late. Again. But I think I need an extra push in the right direction.
I did the 30 Day Shred years ago, and thought it was awesome. So I picked it up, dusted off the cover (which was exercise in itself!) and switched it on.
The point of the 30 Day Shred is that you can fit a whole workout into twenty minutes. So it’s more than a little intense. But you know, I could hack it.
Well, I did finish it. But, as I’m sure you can guess, that is not the whole story.
It started off well. It turns out that I’m actually fitter than I thought, and I got through the first bit no problem. I was amazing!
Then, it started to burn.
I pushed on, breath coming in strangled gasps. Grunting like an overexcited pig. I couldn’t see my face (thank God!) but I’m sure it was probably a fetching shade of purple. I was clicking in places I wasn’t even aware were supposed to have rotational capabilities. And there was a considerable amount of sweating.
Basically, it was really fucking gross.
But I wasn’t going to quit there. I am a tough, powerful woman, and I wasn’t going to be beaten by Jillian Michaels.
It started to get near the end of the DVD. Five minutes to go. I could do that.
Then, Squeak woke up.
For those of you who don’t know, Squeak doesn’t sleep in a cot. Frankly, she doesn’t really sleep anywhere! But for those moments when she engages in an extended blink, she parks herself on my bed. Which is, currently, a mattress on my bedroom floor.
Sounds a lot more bohemian than it actually is. To be honest, it just makes my room look like a squatter’s paradise.
Not all that desirable.
But anyway, this means that when I hear her outraged, needy squawks through the baby monitor, I kind of have to go. Like, now.
Despite my bedroom being a (fairly) safe, secure environment, the idea of a free range baby anywhere where I am not fills me with approximately no amount of joy.
I was rather pissed off. I mean, is twenty minutes of peace really too much to ask for?
Well yes, obviously it is.
I assessed her cry, and decided that it was more of a, “Hellooooo, anyone there?” cry than an, “Oh my God, I have ruptured my femoral artery and I’m bleeding out!” one. So I carried on, hoping and praying that I would get to the end of the workout before her screeches became more urgent.
It would have felt like cheating to stop then.
I can’t say exercise becomes any more enjoyable with a backing track of, “Wuh wuh wuh, waaaaah!” Of course, that opens up the debate of whether it was all that fun in the first place. Right now, as I type with aching, strained arms, I’m on the ‘fuck no’ side.
I reached the end, skipped the cool down bit and legged it upstairs to feed Squeak. It was lovely to horizontalise after all that work. Aahhhhhhh.
She took a touch longer than normal to settle than usual, and didn’t slip into unconsciousness until almost half an hour had passed by. I rolled silently away, stood up…
And promptly collapsed back onto the floor.
I guess you could say that muscle fatigue had set in. Unbelievably, Squeak didn’t react to my inelegant vertical fail. She didn’t even stir. I normally can’t even sigh next to this kid, or scratch my nose.
Yes, I am serious.
Cautiously, I navigated the stairs on a pair of epically wibbly legs, and flopped onto the couch.
Holy shit! Still, with an effect like that it’ll work a treat, amirite?
It bloody better had, I’m subjecting myself to it again tonight.