Confessions on a gym floor
I have not gone to the gym in one month. Not a terrible catastrophe in itself, I know.
However, once you understand where I come from, you will agree that this can be very dangerous: I was a chubby baby and a podgy teenager. I grew into a borderline bulimic young adult and then a body dysmorphic disorder-afflicted chain-smoking thirty-something. I was all set to turn things around and become a fit daddy, and now here I go all yo-yo again.
It all started on the eve of our weekend break in Dublin (12 stone 9.5 pounds), as a carefully planned (and often recommended) week off training.
Upon our return (13 stone 2 pounds) I thought I'd shed a little weight before showing my face again at the gym. I also had an increased load at work, with two hot-potato projects passed on to me, and very little time for extended lunch breaks on the treadmill.
A week later (13 stone 1.5 pounds) I learnt that dieting while not exercising can be a very slow and not very rewarding process. I am mister instant gratification. I was not impressed.
Two weeks later (13 stone 1.5 pounds) I started taking a different route to work to avoid walking near the gym. Hardly worth going back, with another long weekend break just round the corner.
Back from the Isle of Wight (13 stone 5 pounds) with aching knuckles and thumbs from three days of regular bread making. Look, I was in the most charming old mill with the aga cooker of my dreams, forty people had to be fed, it was a birthday weekend. The baking just happened. The things I do to feel appreciated, eh?
So, I am definitely, absolutely hitting the gym today (13 stone 6 pounds) before my stomach sticks out so much I can balance the tub of ice-cream on it while doing that potato thing on the couch I do so well.
Only this time, I know it is going to happen. I have a secret weapon, and I can't wait to try it out.
(Americans and metric folks can hover on Imperial weights to appreciate the full extent of my balooning)
Friday 25 November 2005 at 2:29 am
And yet, somewhere in the middle of all this steady decline, you had no apparent problem getting entirely (and prize-winningly) naked in a public place; that's the bit that puzzles me.
Friday 25 November 2005 at 9:00 am
No need to be puzzled Ian: think Dutch courage, no shame, loving the stage and the attention, and the enticing prospect of 200 pounds.
It was not much pondered over: I just checked that I had dark underwear on and off I went!