This week I stepped on the weighing scales.
A lot of thought went into whether I should commit this act.
It had to happen.
I used to get on it at the doctor's and look the other way.
I just don't bother anymore.
It's one of those things.
I can blame on everything.
Two pregnancies in quick succession.
A twin pregnancy.
But really. It's:
Lack of exercise.
It has begun.
I decided I wasn't going to diet.
It would be great to lose all of this weight.
But it will come back.
It has to be about improvements.
Which are permanent.
And so it has begun.
Thanks to a friend I have discovered a Zumba class I am happy to attend.
Enjoying. At the moment.
The fantastic instructor is unnoticing of my lack of co-ordination.
And inability to make my legs and arms work at the same time.
I leave exhausted.
And from there I've started cutting things out of my diet.
The comfort food.
And so, we'll see.
Ten years ago, I was three dress sizes smaller than I am now.
Although Mr J and I have mentioned 'lollypop head'.
So I'm going for targets.
I'd like to get to Zumba three times a week.
I'd like to loose two stone in weight.
I'd like to keep it real.
I like this photo.
I still have the dress.
I'd like to fit back into it.
Bear with me.