It’s common right?
You do really well on the ol’ fitness shit. You loose a fair bit of weight, you feel like a fantabulous version of you. You think you can conquer the world with your new pert bum.
Then you take your foot off your gas.
You may well have spent 6 months or more actively avoiding anything bad. Actively going out of your way to schedule in 3 nights a week for exercise and well being. Actually giving up coffee (say what?).
And then all of a sudden, you look fucking fabulous in your new size 12 jeans, and you forget about the work. About the aching muscles. About the days you left protein in your shaker and your gym bag smelt like a dead rodent.
And all of a sudden it’s ‘yeah, I’ll come out for one after work’. And one turns into a tonne and before you know it, you’ve missed the 21.50 and you’re in the queue for a burrito at Victoria realising you’ve done a bottle of wine and a bag of crisps.
All of a sudden it’s ‘sod it, let’s just get a pizza’, because you’ve done your stint of eating chicken and broccoli on a Friday night and you want a greasy chin. Say something?
All of a sudden you get in a relationship or you start working late or all of a sudden all those things that were once such a priority get taken over by other stuff. Date nights. Nights in the office. Getting pissed on Wednesdays.
And bam! You don’t feel like you did.
You don’t feel those bursts of energy. You fall asleep on the train.
You don’t feel those boosts of ‘YAS KWEEEN’ when you look at your gleaming skin and your sparkling eyes. Instead your skin has the sugar puffs and you’ve got red eye from not enough sleep because you’ve been caneing too much coffee.
But more importantly you don’t feel as steady.
If like me, you exercise for your head as well as your thighs, this will ring true.
You’re anxious and a bit more emotional than usual. You’re not keeping the little things (like not eating two loaves of white bread in a weekend cos, well, fuck it) in check, so the big things start to slip too.
And that’s just what’s happened to me.
I got myself into a place where I felt amazing. Not looked.
My body, my brain, my skin. It all felt on point. A game.
And then I got lazy, took the foot well and truly off the pedal.
And now. Now I don’t.
I don’t feel good in my clothes. I feel anxious. I look a bit older than I should.
So I’m claiming it back.
And I’m going to write it all down here so that,
A) I stick to it, because – fuck being the girl that told the internet that she would do something and then bailed out.
B) You too can see how quick it is to get back on track. Get your feel good booty vibes back. Get your smiling-not-panic-attacking-back. Get you all back.
And also to prove the point that life is about balance and life aint about Instagram.
One of the reasons I think I feel crap about the way I look is because my feed is full of ripped bastards, sweating at HOT HIIT and telling me how phenomenal their home made kale and pistachio smoothie was when they were up at 6.30am on Saturday morning.
These people don’t tell you when they’ve had a night off to eat curry with a poppadom instead of a fork on the sofa with their fella whilst binge watching new episodes of Riveria.
These people don’t tell you about the time they did something like, I dunno, go to the pub for entertainment rather than go to yoga.
The only way we’re going to claim us feeling good back, is if we don’t compare them to every tanned ripped Tom, Dick and Fitness Queen on social.
So here’s a normal girl’s journey to claiming her body (and her booty) back.
Real life. And real wellness.