Monkey business

It has been some long while since I had the time or inclination to put fingertip to keyboard and update this blog. Shame on me, but with four children aged seven and under under my feet for the past two and a half weeks, simply remaining vaguely sane over the festive period has been a strain. Add to this the continuation of my battle against the bulge and you can understand why witty quips haven't been fast flowing of late.

I am proud to say that I actually managed to continue to lose weight over Christmas, thanks to a iron willpower and throwing out all the leftovers the moment that forks had ceased to be raised to our mouths. Though how I have resisted raiding the children's mountain of sweets remains a mystery, even to myself.

So far I am a stone down on my original gargantuan weight. Although it feels somehow wrong to be celebrating the fact that a size 18 no longer feels like an 18th Century corset on me, I am still quietly pleased to be back into my 'small' jeans, despite the fact that to most they would be grossly huge.

I am sure that the majority of my reduction is down to the sadistic personal trainer who smiles as he makes me drag my wobbly ass up flight after flight of stairs whilst lugging iron kettlebells behind me, a bit like poor old Marley dragging his chains as constant companions on an eternal painful journey.

You see I decided to solve the problem of my weight as I solve most conundrums - throw money at it. I am spending an amount that is almost as painful to contemplate as the sessions themselves, but if the results so far are anything to go by, I think it is worth every penny. Clearly this is how stars melt away the baby fat, it is so much easier to keep up the motivation when you have a six foot wall of muscle wielding a set of shiny dumb bells breathing down your neck.

I will also admit that escaping to the gym has also given me the odd break in the monotony of taking care of my four increasingly bored children. While I looked forward to the holidays like a thirsty desert traveller longs for a cooling oasis, once the main event was over my God did the days begin to drag. I think I ran out of ideas and patience around Boxing Day, and yet the children are still not back at school thanks to the thoughtful addition of two inset days.

Today I enlisted my mum to help me entertain them and we marched them off to London Zoo which was infested with photographers snapping shots of the keepers counting their animals like latter day Noahs for the annual stocktake. The paps with their huge lenses and psuedo flack jackets were almost as fascinating to small boys as the exotic species.

My boys' interest levels in the livestock rose and fell directly in line with how likely it was that they might be able to dish out a fatal wounding, so lions, poisonous frogs, snakes and spiders were kings of the beasts, while vibrantly plumed birds and fluffy little monkeys were given short shrift. Still it was another day passed and 24 hours closer to back to school. Hurrah.

I just hope when relative peace reigns throughout the house once again the gym won't lose it's attraction as a haven of serenity amidst the chaos of family life. Still there's always the weekends.

Happy New Year to one and all and fingers crossed in 2011 this blog will be all about me and my ever decreasing circumference....

P.S. a big fat thank you to all at the wonderful Ready for Ten for including little old FDMTG in their round up of the top 50 blogs for 2010. Not sure after recent neglect it is entirely deserved, but perhaps I will live up to the compliment this year.

I don't like dieting

Funny isn't it how everyone says that diets don't work, it's just a question of eating less. Errm...isn't that the same thing? My tummy certainly seems to think so a week into my new healthy eating regime. Some might say that deciding to lose weight in the run up to Christmas is somewhat foolhardy, if not downright bloody stupid. Guess what? They'd be right.

If it isn't enough of a nightmare simply trying to tame my rampant appetite for all things edible, trying to do it as everyone from the TV to Starbucks is trying to ram mince pies, turkey sandwiches and creamy hot chocolate down my throat is a living hell. I am trying to tell myself that it's all a question of retraining myself to prefer a nice healthy bowl of lentils to a steaming bag of chips, but my brain, being an iota or two above subnormal, just ain't buying it.

Still it has to be done as I am sick of choosing from the tent rails in clothes shops and looking like someone stopped in the middle of inflating me into a bouncy castle. Not to mention my raised chance of developing diabetes thanks to a body that seems to be not only incapable of telling my stomach that yes, it has had enough, but also to regulate sugar in my blood. Cheers for that.

This morning I had my first induction to the gym. It has been years since I darkened the door of such an establishment, but with temperatures dipping below freezing and my general tendency towards sloth it seems like the only answer. I was put through my (slow and painful) paces by a personal trainer, who had me drowning in sweat and blowing like a buffalo after about 15 minutes of gentle walking on a treadmill, all of which reminded me quite why I hate gyms.

All I can do is visualise how unbelievably gorgeous I will look once I reach my desired size, and forget that for all the weight I lose I am still pushing 40 with all the associated wrinkles and crinkles that rather ruin my soft focus fantasy of myself. Wish me luck, I have a feeling I am going to need it.