"Fat to Fittie"

Nobody knows more about the value of movement than me and whilst I do spend time sitting and watching telly, (especially right now cos Wimbledon’s on), I’m also constantly doing jobs and work around the house. I like to keep very active, particularly while the nice weather’s here, doing the garden, though the work rest ratio is about work for 30 mins, sit down for 20. Despite this home movement, I’m not to keen on actually leaving the house, unless I really have to. I get anxious when I go somewhere new, mostly because I don’t know what the parking’s like, how far I’m going to have to walk or what sort of seating’s there is, because all of these thing’s cause me a problem, more importantly, they cause me pain. It starts with just getting in the car, then of course if you get in, you have to get out, so that’s two lots of agony and unless I’m just off for a cruise around the block, or a Maccy’s drive through, I’m going to have to get in and out at least once more. So it’s with this dilemma that I’m currently sat pondering if to go to fat club or not.

I started back at Slimming World a couple of weeks ago, thought I’d give it a try again and help get myself out of this rut I seem to be in, seemed like a good idea at the time, but let me explain what this journey is going to be like. Firstly, I could really do with a cup of tea, but because that’s potentially going to add on a bit of weight, it’s not going to happen, who would be so stupid to have anything to eat or drink half an hour before they get weighed? Second, because I had a bit of Oramorph last night, it seems to have blocked me up, so I’m also carrying last nights tea in my stomach, not a great start. No shower, cos the water soaks into your body and adds weight, but getting dressed would be easy, light clothes only, shorts and t-shirt, obviously no pants, fine, as long as I don’t go shopping after.

I’ve already mentioned the difficulty I have getting in and out of the car, so lets say I’ve now arrived at the place, which is actually an indoor bowls club and surprisingly has very little disabled parking, add to this that all the fatty’s got here before me, I have to find a normal space. The reason I need a disabled parking spot is not because it’s nearer, though that helps, but it’s more about needing to open the door fully so I can get in and out, to do this, I have to park far away in the corner, at least three minutes walk. The room we use is obviously upstairs, so when I eventually get in the building there’s a flight of stairs to get up, yes there is a lift, but let me explain why I don’t use it. As breakdowns go, this one’s reputation precedes it, the notice inside asks you, in the event of an emergency, please don’t panic, now whilst I’d certainly not be happy stuck in a small space for an hour, the thought of needing a wee while waiting to be freed is immense and as for explaining the puddle in the corner, ….I’ll just take the stairs.

Luckily, there’s a stopping point halfway up, which is just as well because no matter how good I time it, when I finally puff my way onto it, there’s a queue of ladies waiting behind and in front, all saying the same thing, “It’s okay, take your time”, though inside wishing my fat body would roll down to the bottom and I’d have to struggle back up again. On getting into the room there’s the usual greeting to all those already weighed and sat waiting “Morning, how did you do” ? It’s all anyone ever asks, everyone you talk to and the response is always the same, well actually it’s a choice of two, “Oh well done”, or, “Never mind, give yourself a treat today, then back on it tomorrow”.

Next I have to queue to register, answer “no thank you”, to buying chocolate bars designed to fill me without the calories and “no thank you” to raffle tickets. I feel the eyes burning on me as I fail to add anything to the slimmer of the week basket, before I join the 10 minute queue to get weighed, where I watch ladies discard items of clothing, before stepping onto the scales. Finally it’s my turn, usual chit chat about how my weeks been and that means what I’ve ate, not done, before struggling to lift my leg and then balance without my stick for what seems like an age, watching the numbers fluctuate, only to be told that I’ve put on two pounds. I can now choose to stay and listen to everyone else saying how much they’ve put on or lost, an hour of my life gone, or I can go now, doing everything I just did in reverse. So that’s my dilemma, should I get dressed and go, only to be told what I already know, that I’ve lost f**k all? You know what, I can’t be arsed.