Tue, 27 Oct 2009 4:40p.m.
This week I am embarking on an eight-week exercise programme. The intention? To get hot.
Well, that’s not exactly what I tell people – my public reasons include increased fitness and overall muscle tone – but if you read between the lines, that’s pretty much what it comes down to. Hotness. Last summer was the first since I was about 12 that I didn’t wear a burkha to hide all my lumps and bumps and ugly bits. I actually forced myself (and begged my friends to keep me accountable) to never wear a singlet over my bikini when I ventured into the water in public. I still clung to my board shorts as a second skin, though, because there was no way I was ready to subject myself or the poor unsuspecting public to that truly horrid sight. It was bad enough subjecting them to my saggy never-seen-the-sun-before belly. But a year ago I vowed that this summer I would discard the board shorts too, that I would work on my body over the winter and have no need to cover myself this summer. Well, it’s now eight short weeks until Christmas, and my body quite possibly looks worse than it did this time last year.
I have been regularly going to the gym for just over a year now. Unfortunately I’ve got a nasty habit of ruining my hot and sweaty efforts there by feasting on kebabs and KFC on the way home. People have told me that a gym buddy is more likely to encourage me to work hard at the gym. Well, I actually do have a gym buddy and he’s great to have around at the gym, but unfortunately for both of us he too is fond of food and actively participates in my kebab and KFC binge-eating. As a result, we have both enrolled in Reactiv8, in an attempt to reverse the effects of fast food and crap self control.
As much as I am genuinely excited about this training programme, I truly hope my personal trainer doesn’t make me do a whole lot of running. I am not what you’d call a runner. I like to think I’m relatively fit, but I really only look at running as a means of escape from evil men, not as a viable fitness regime. I tried training for the Auckland half marathon last year, and ended up having to go to physio twice a week for nine months. And I got nowhere near the start line let alone the finish line. Besides, I think I look stupid running. What do I do with my hands? And I don’t have a proper sports bra. And then I get thirsty, and red and hot and sweaty.. Walking is much more hassle-free and I look much better doing it. I do play weekly social indoor netball, but even then my running action is fairly limited. Running up and down the court isn’t really what I do. Banging into people “accidently” and seeing if I score the penalty is much more my style.
So now, as my Reactiv8 training is about to commence, I reminisce about Life Before Training. I ate whatever I wanted. I exercised whenever I felt like it. I made loud and grandiose announcements to my flatmates that “I’m going out for a run – should be back in an hour” but then never really made it past fast walking speed and snuck back in about 20 minutes later. I worried about my flab and lumps and bumps and waistline but was never really very successful at improving the situation. And I dreamed of wearing that itsy bitsy bikini without a singlet or board shorts (God forbid) to hide the aforementioned flab and lumps and bumps and waistline.
Alongside my reminiscing I dream about what Life During Training will be like. Well, maybe “dream” isn’t quite the right word. Perhaps “dread” is more appropriate. I can imagine there’ll be the looking stupid, the wondering what to do with my hands, the boob bounce, the thirst, the redness, hotness, sweatiness .. I fear the aching muscles and general pain and agony I’m likely to experience. But I’m also hoping for a bit of toning and slimming and energising, and perhaps a bit of discipline, confidence building and appreciation of my body.
And then there’s Life After Training. Eight long weeks away. Or, depending on which way you look at it, eight short weeks away. I can’t even begin to imagine what that life will be like. But maybe I’ll be the fittest I’ve ever been. Maybe I will have lost two dress sizes and just look damn hot. Maybe I’ll buy the coolest bikini in the whole wide world, and combined with a great spray tan (I’m part Irish ... Enough said), have the confidence to wear it and know that I look good in it. Or maybe I will have failed abysmally and flushed a whole $385 down the drain.
So, as my first appointment with my trainer at 4pm on Thursday slowly but definitely approaches, I dust off my running shorts; I charge my iPod and make sure my playlists are up-to-date with all my favourite tunes; I stock my pantry with goodness and my drawers with clean socks; and I start hoping and praying that all of my expectations are achieved by the end of it.
Bring on summer.
What I’m reading: “Jaquie Brown’s Guide to Everything” by Jaquie Brown
What I’m watching: “Grey’s Anatomy,” right from the very beginning because I really only got into it halfway through Season five
What I’m looking forward to: Christmas holidays
What I’m dreading: Christmas shopping
What’s made me happy this week: Discovering that I may not have to work on Christmas Day when I initially thought I’d have to
What’s really annoyed me this week: Christmas decorations appearing in shops already. It’s October, people.