Oh wow, I’m so bad at blogging these days that I shock even myself! When was my last post? I don’t think it was even this month.
I went to a new thing this morning.
I’ve missed running, and with Trev often coming home after dark I really needed to find something else to keep me moving. Something Iris could come along to.
FitMums. That is actually what it’s called. The name disappoints me. I’m not sure why. I guess I just think they could come up with something better. It makes me think of ‘fit’ used as a word to describe somebody who is very attractive, rather than physically in shape. I definitely am not fit in that sense. Not in any sense, actually. I have no desire for anybody to ever describe me as ‘fit’ again, and frankly I don’t need the pressure. I wouldn’t mind being able to run up the stairs without it killing me though, and wearing my old jeans would be a bit nice.
I moan on and on about those old jeans, don’t i?
So Iris sat in her pushchair eating (she won’t be in a pushchair unless she’s eating or sleeping) and wearing a WTF expression while me and several others ran around, squatted, did push ups and the plank. Apart from the boxing part where the gloves stank so badly of old cheese I could hardly bear it, I really enjoyed it. It’s always amazed me how we avoid exercise when it feels so so good.
I’ve been doing Slimming World again too. Not the groups, just the online version. I’m 5 days in and apart from one hiccup where I ate more chocolate than I can count in syns, I’m doing alright. I’ve avoided the scales because I have a terrible habit of weighing myself daily and obsessing over stupid fluctuations that mean nothing. It’s the jeans that count anyway. Screw the scales. I just want to wear my old jeans because new jeans means shopping and I hate shopping.
I might even start using my old kettlebell as a kettlebell, not a doorstop.
As odd as it may seem, I’d like to keep a bit of this belly though. This wonderful belly that stretched and itched and ached, and grew a kid that eats dog food when I’m not looking. Even the crinkly lines where the skin gave up and couldn’t stretch anymore. They can stay too.
But the dimples in my bum have to go.