You may have noticed my references to the gym in recent weeks. If you look back over the previous three years on Tea Stains, such mentions were scant. Alright, non existent.
The gym and I are not natural friends. It’s not that I dislike exercise… it’s just that given a choice I’ll plump for a good book on the sofa. So, yes, plump I got.
And plumper and plumper.
A while back I was listening to myself declaiming that someone I knew wasn’t taking responsibility for their situation. It wasn’t related to their weight but about something else entirely but as the words left my mouth I had a moment; *Ping!* it went. Maybe it was hubris, I don’t know, but in my case it was a weighty light bulb moment, relating as it did to the size of my arseage. I wasn’t taking responsibility. I was waiting for someone else to show up and do it for me. And then I had this horrible realization that no one was coming.
OMG: I had to do it?
It’s not only about getting slimmer, but about getting fitter and stronger so that I’ll be okay in my future. I am also trying to sort out certain mechanical problems too – impingement in my left hip and my right shoulder which cause occasional pain.
The worse thing about all of this… is the sense of déjà vu because I’ve done it all before. Oh yes. Yoyo? Indeed; the yoyo has nothing on me. I can do all tricks, "walk the dog," “through the tunnel” and the fat lady (oh no, that’s not a trick, that’s me.) Of course I’m talking about yoyo dieting not the game on a string (I can’t do any of those stunts either.) It’s bloody depressing losing the same kilos over and over again so this time it’s got to be for good.
And honestly, I dislike the gym. It’s so boring. But this time I’ve got a magic charm: G. She comes to our gym three times a week to bully motivate me. And I do actually quite enjoy it when she’s there. But still, when G’s text comes ‘Jenny, I’m leaving now – I’ll see you down in the gym’ I still react like one of Pavlov’s dogs in his less well known experiment: *Tut! Huff! sharp puff of air through rubbery lips!* It’s like this physical response – if I were speaking, it might be: ‘Oh FFS’ - to the realisation that it’s nearly gym time. All this in spite of the fact I feel better afterwards.
So I’m trying to retrain myself. I’m trying to find a new approach to my feelings about the gym and the text message. I do feel good after I’ve been – I’m trying to be mindful of that. When G’s texts come in now I take a deep breath; suck in my cheeks and I smile. I contemplate feeling good afterwards: ‘The gym with G?’ I think. ‘Great.’
And then sometimes, I'll "eff and blind" all the way down to the sixth floor.