I’ve been feeling a little deflated after the scale incident last week, so I did what any girl would do in my situation, I went shopping. Those who know me well know of my love of shoes (I hate feet, shoes make feet look far more acceptable). I invested in a new pair of running shoes. Disappointing I know. I would much rather be tapping out the description of a new pair of stiletto’s. However – given they are still on the ‘not preferred footwear options’ with my friends the physio, the surgeon, Yoda or Ms P, or the Devil himself – no such luck. New runners it was (it was still retail therapy).
I’ve decided I am going to continue on this path and sign-up for round 3. What the fuck?! Yep, I’m going to do it. As disheartened as I have been these last few weeks with the scale situation, I feel different. I feel good. I’m eating real food, not doing some fad shake or detox drink or pills. I’m exercising and enjoying it. I love the fact that I can now do push-ups on my toes (seriously, I can – who’d have thought?). I’m motivated by the little dashboard I see every time I log into my 12WBT page (sometimes more depressed, but that’s motivation itself right there). I think this has really helped push me back into training hard and not allowed me to use (my somewhat insanely at times) sore leg as an excuse.
JFDI – Just Fucking Do It – is the 12WBT motto. I like it, it resonates well with me. I get frustrated with people who want to wallow in their own self pity, or whichever earth shattering drama happens to fall in their lap that particular day. I don’t do excuses. I apply the same level of zero tolerance with myself. My sister Midge often quotes me as saying ‘dry your eyes princess’ and ‘man-up’ – I’m not really that harsh, am I?
So anyway – I am going to do at least another 12 week challenge, and another after that if I have too. I’ve realised I am never going to be one of those amazingly skinny chics that can wear all the latest fashion trends (I’ve seen a lot of them – do I really want to? The 80’s ended for a very good reason…). It’s just seriously not me. I was born with hips, I’ve worked out they aren’t going anywhere. They certainly served me well during childbirth. I am however going to be lean and muscular – but not in a vulgar Arnold Schwarzenegger kind of way (though I’d be happy to sport a six pack).
A leaner, muscular version of me with hips will be hot – and the Devil is very pleased with this scenario. I am too. It feels kind of good to have come to this conclusion, this realisation that I will never ever be a size 6 and possibly never an 8. Actually, I don’t want to be. I’d look like a praying mantis – all out of proportion (how do those critters fly with their skinny torso and comparatively large arse?).
I have curves, I’m going to take the next 6 to 18 weeks to learn to love them.