Resolutions: Or at least, the resolution to keep resolutions
Its the beginning of a New Year. And so comes the one resolution millions of women will make over the next week, only to break them by the time the Easter eggs are gracing the shelves at Tesco. Its time to dig out your sweatbands, because like everybody else, Im tackling my waistline in 2018.
Weve all been eating like maniacs over Christmas, giving up diets and avoiding looking at calories on boxes of Quality Streets. And that is definitely not a bad thing over the festive period. Unfortunately, its now time for the all important Resolutions- capitalised, because that makes it seem more serious, and therefore theres more of a chance Ill keep mine. Unlike the past 2 years where they have been broken by the middle of January.
My resolution, like a lot of people out there, is to lose weight and feel healthier and fitter. I hate road running, so Im opting for a gym membership that I will definitely use at least 4 times a week. Fingers crossed.
Anyone who says its easy to lose weight is a complete liar. They annoy me as much as people who moan about not being able to put on weight. Its not easy to dig your old sports gear from the back of your wardrobe. Its certainly not easy to watch that standing order leave your bank account once a month. But the biggest challenge of all, when you actually get into the gym, is seeing people who are so much thinner than you already.
For me, I put the blinders on. Like a horse galloping to victory, I huff and puff away on the cross trainer, focusing on anything but my wobbling thighs and sweaty brow.But most of the time, relying on my psychological horse blinders is difficult. So I turn, as a lot of people do, to the magazines- and herein lies my biggest mistake.
For all my good intentions (perhaps if Im reading Marie Claire, I wont realise how long Ive been running! And it hides the calorie counter on the machine, so the next time I look its shot up to 250 and I feel that Kit Kat I ate before I came is now justified) I always end up staring at pictures of beautifully thin girls. I try to avoid them, focusing on articles about war and current affairs, but I cant escape them. Even the adverts show women casually modelling taut abs and skinny arms.
Its demoralising. Especially if you then catch a glimpse of yourself, sweaty and red, in one of those massive wall mirrors men use to ogle themselves whilst doing their weights. Its like Return of the Swamp Creature, but with fitness apparatus instead of a submarine.
The next time I go to the gym- which will hopefully be tomorrow morning, but will probably turn out to be next week- I am not taking a magazine. I will not be sucked into the confidence-knocking void of street style pages, what celebrities wore to award shows or how Kim Kardashian lost a load of weight but still managed to get away with eating a cake every day.
It will be just me, a treadmill, my iPhone andthe Ricky Gervais podcasts. No, seriously, here me out. They say laughter burns calories. So you may look like a crazy woman, laughing on your own whilst jogging for 20 minutes, but you might as well enjoy yourself while trying to lose weight.
At least thats my theorywish me luck!
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