The Food Fight Blog, pt. 4

It was at this point that I met my now fiancé, and that’s when shit got real.

So, as I’ve said, I used to be real fat. And now I’m not so fat, and that’s pretty cool.

I worked hard at depriving myself, my obsession with food changed from eating all of it to obsessing about what I could/couldn’t eat. I still don’t think I have a completely healthy relationship with it — I still associate nice food with good times and celebrations and being happy, and healthy food is a chore, and boring and it won’t make me feel better after a bad day, or when I’m PMSing all about that place.

I figure that as long as I’m eating sensibly though, I have to be obsessed about it in some way, and this is way better than the alternative.

Another plateau happened when I met the guy. We went for dinners, and cooked for each other and drank wine on the sofa and all those other things that usually happen in the beginning of a relationship.

Luckily for me though, my fiancé is a personal trainer. I will never forget the first time he took me to the gym. I was in my old jogging bottoms and a t-shirt, never having wanted to spend money on gym clothes, gross.

I had never lifted a weight in my life and I was terrified. I can’t remember exactly what we did, but I do remember really struggling with lifting just the bar on the bench press. Needless to say, I was embarrassed, and when I got home I couldn’t lift my arms above my head to wash my hair.

It was miserable. I was in serious pain for a good 4 days afterwards. I actually had to go on a work trip and I was struggling to get my coat on and off because it hurt so much.

I’m pretty sure all my colleagues thought I was either mental or had been beaten up! I didn’t think the pain would ever stop, it was horrendous. And then just as it had gone away, he made me go again!

The second time was nowhere near as bad as the first, I mean, I was still humiliatingly weak, and it was tough when I was there, but the aftermath was much more manageable.

What happened next shocked me to my very unstable core. I asked him for a weights programme.

WHAT? I hate the gym, I didn’t want to do it, but I wanted to do something and now that my doctor had made me swear off basically all cardio except swimming (and who can be bothered with that more than once in a blue moon? I mean, the showering at the gym, having to dry your hair before you leave in the winter, other people getting in the way in the swimming pool, you know what I mean) I was keen to try something different.