I am so cross with myself.
Back at the start of the year, I was the heaviest I’d ever been. At 9st 13lb and five foot tall, my BMI of 27 put me officially in the Overweight category. I knew exactly how I got there; a combination of post-pregnancy sag, reintroducing dairy after six months off it in an attempt to help The Baby’s reflux, reducing to three breastfeeds a day having been doing anywhere up to 12 in a 24-hour period, and, most significantly, too much food and wine.
I hated the way I looked. Until I had children, I’d never had to worry about my weight. As a teenager and young adult, I was tiny. I could eat anything I wanted without changing shape or size. When I got married, 10 years ago, I was under 8st. People used to warn me that my metabolism would change and my weight would catch up on me one day, but I never gave it too much thought.
They were right, though. For the first 12 months of motherhood, I was the skinniest I’d ever been, thanks to a dairy-free diet (The Boy was also a refluxer) and lack of sleep. But when I stopped breastfeeding at 20 months, the weight didn’t so much creep up on me as hit me like a sledgehammer – and being such a shortie, I really can’t afford to carry any more than an extra couple of pounds.
I look back on photos from that time and feel disgusted. The pictures from our first foreign holiday with The Boy, in particular, upset me so much I can hardly bear to look at them. They spurred me on to get in control of my weight, and I did; by our next holiday, a year later, I was back in my size 10s and comfortable in a bikini again.
But it didn’t last, and by January 2012 I was back where I started, only more so. But it was okay; I had seven months till our summer holiday. More than enough time to take myself in hand. Through a combination of a weight loss plan and hypnotherapy, I lost 11lb over three months.
Then I fell off the wagon.
My willpower with food is dreadful. At home all day, with no one but The Baby to raise an eyebrow, I can polish off three Penguins in one sitting. I eat the kids’ leftovers, The Boy’s Cheesestrings. I walk two to four miles a day, but don’t do any cardiovascular exercise. So here I am again, 9st 11lb and with a BMI of 26. And I don’t want to be like this. So I’m putting myself out there, going public. I’m going to lose the weight this time. I’m going to keep it off. If the whole world knows about it, then I can’t cheat.
I’m realistic. I’ll never be sub-8st again. Eight and a half, or even edging towards nine would be okay. My Baby-inflicted muffin top (at 7lb 10oz, she was a biggie for a small person like me) has put paid to my hopes of ever looking good in my favourite skinnies again. But I want to find a shape and size that I’m comfortable with, and stay there.
So, goal number one: to shed 7lb before I go on holiday on August 9th. With six weeks to go, it should be doable. I’ll report back every Saturday on how I’m getting on. I’m determined. But if anyone knows where I can get me some willpower, I’d love to know about it…