19th-25th March 2012
Weight: 10st 3lbs
Status: Just one more week! (Who said lap of honour?! You better start running…)
Mood: Unsurprisingly upbeat!
I feel great! I feel alert, I feel focussed and I feel pretty darn proud of myself for doing this. I honestly believed when I started the challenge that I wouldn’t make it; that I’d set myself a task just too ahead of my own abilities to say no – but proving myself wrong has to be the ultimate achievement. I’ve handled the peer pressure (and there has been lots), I’ve fought the good fight with the cravings (of which there were tonnes) and I’ve survived the mockery (just too much to convey…) So, care to join me in an ‘end of the Breakfast Club, fist punch into air whilst walking into sunset’ moment anyone?
Talking of arms in the air; I posted a picture on facebook this week in a shameless attempt at sympathy for my own stupidity (see below); where I mis-handled a rope and ‘literally’ felt the burn. The interesting thing that came out of this posting was a couple of comments that I did not foresee. I made a joke (I know, me? Shocker!) about my bingo wings, for which the last 7 or so years that I’ve been dealing with the effects of my lazy-arse thyroid have been a real sore point for me – even more so now (see picture again and give even more sympathy…) The dreaded wings were something that always seemed apparent to me and a constant reminder of my illness. As a writer, my unvarying pose is sat at a 90º angle with arms out-stretched towards keyboard with spare tyre waist tucked nicely under the desk and out of sight, but those arms sit in my line of sight and are a little harder to hide. Even when heading out for an evening, your thighs and midriff can benefit from the elastic breath-restrictor that is Spanx, and the clever designs of a bodycon dress – but those arms… asides from shopping for your clothes in the tent department of Millets; they’re pretty hard to cover up. My under-active thyroid and indeed, my own feelings, are often hurt by my over-active imagination as I pictured my wings flapping about like a boisterous spaniel’s ears or swinging so vehemently to have mothers pulling their children to one side through fear of them being wiped-out on the pavement. However, my joke received some comments back that referred to my bingo wings in a new and positive light, which made me re-look at the picture and realise that my ‘wings’ had been somewhat clipped.
Ever since that day, I’ve been wearing short sleeve t-shirts and *staring at my upper arms – yes, that’s right people, upper arms – with a little smile. (*read working really hard and not stopping to vainly admire own arms…)
I’ve taken measurements and recorded weights, I’ve stopped to appreciate my healthier breathing (you know, breathing deeply without falling over unconscious) and admiring my overall feeling of improved fitness but I hadn’t taken the time to actually look at the work Charlie, Laura and the bootcamp ladies have helped me create. As a writer, I love a sense of the dramatic; so it’s easy for me to say, my (now non-floor scraping) arms may be some of my best work yet! :0) xx