For fear this blog is turning into more than just rantings from a born again psycho (self diagnosis) and has descended into the pits of being crap about food and exercise… Well at least it isn’t about my kids… although it was going to be, but I won’t put them through that… they already complain they learn more about my activities from the intertubes.

For Miss 11 going on some much older age… I have no plans for the weekend apart from sleep. And Gym. And that is where the punishment thing comes in.

Someone I know was asked last year if they were pushing themselves at the gym for punishment and went on to justify why they weren’t. I believe they had it right too. I am beginning to doubt myself though.

I was there twice today. I have been exhausted all week. I keep telling myself the gym makes me feel better, but in reality, I feel the same. I don’t seem to get that rush of endorphins that people talk about. I get stiff and sore.

This hasn’t been the best week. I took a huge tumble in the street yesterday as I was stepping up the kerb to put money in the parking machine. I went splat on my face, landed on my sore wrist, grazed both knees and looked up to find the GM of one of the major workplaces I deal with, along with 2 other senior staff, offering to help me. Just give me back my dignity.

Last night turned into a pity party for me and whilst I went to bed at 10pm, I mulled things over in my head for many hours and woke up with puffy eyes feeling the worse for wear, but determined to get to my 7.30am PT session at the gym. Decided against doing my C25K session straight after and went back this evening for that.

Punishment? I dunno. Feels like it at times. I’ve let my body get like this and I want to change it.

Oh and tonight… yeah, an early night. I have just had ‘words’ with the kids about not caring if it is school holidays- I have to be at work in the morning and I have to drop them off before I go to work. Also reminded them that I needed my rest (I can hear one in the bathroom as I type this) and I can’t rest until they are in bed. Don’t worry- I first told them to get into bed at 8.30.

And on top of that I have to wait another half hour or so for the washing machine to finish. So I am having a pity party again. And all I want is a hug and the one I asked for today never eventuated.

Just telling it as it is.

Remember a bit over 12 months ago… Yeah, I know, I was more prolific then. And wittier. And funnier. And… no wait, was I? Now I am confused. Anyway, I took part in the Bloggest Loser Challenge. And hey, I didn’t do too badly. Well I lost a few kilos.

Then this year my weight has steadily crept up. If I am being honest, if I had lost as much weight as I have found since January I would be a happy camper indeed and would have reached a few of my mini goals.

Don’t get me wrong, I have been going hard at it at the gym. 3-4 times a week I visit doing at least an hour of weights with MIML™ on a Tuesday, half an hour of weights/circuit on a Thursday, an hour of boxing with MIML™ on Friday and an hour and a half class of circuit/boxing on Saturday.

In Hong Kong I invested in a Polar Heart Rate Monitor and have been using this at the gym all the time. And it would tell you that most weeks I burn over 2000 calories.

And my body has changed. Even through the fat I can see muscles and I can definitely feel them! My stamina is increasing. And I enjoy the exercise.

But my eating is another story. I had a bit of a meltdown on Saturday when I had a mental look back through what I had eaten- KFC, creamy laksa, Neenish Tarts, chocolate, chips, pie, cake and I could go on.

My anxiety levels on Saturday were so high that I was even scared to eat. I knew I wanted to eat (I was hungry) but didn’t know what to eat. Part of me wanted the comfort of the fat sliding down my throat, yet another part of me realised that the scales (and to a lesser extent my clothing) were saying that enough was enough.

Then I had another panic attack at the gym and couldn’t do the boxing class. I couldn’t face it. Part of it was extreme tiredness. Part of it was a sugar thing (I hadn’t eaten) and I just felt like crap. MIML™ came straight over after gym and we chatted. And he listened. And he didn’t judge. And he offered the most practical advice and helped me find solutions.

And we went and grabbed a smoked salmon and salad bagel and went out to have a steak for dinner (mine with baked spud!) and I even skipped dessert- well I did have a spoon and tried MIML™s Toblerone gelato!

And yesterday I made an omelette for breakfast with spinach and fetta in it. And I went to the market with MIML™ and didn’t have a samosa. Or any cake. Or a pork bun. Or anything else except for a coffee. And lunch and dinner were sensible choices. And last night I made up a large tub of bircher muesli and cut up a large bowl of fruit salad.

And this morning I got up earlier and had breakfast. And had a cup of tea. And didn’t rush. So I organised a massage for this evening which was the most sublime torture I have had in a long time! But a heap of the tension and tightness in my muscles has dissipated.

And I have looked at food as comfort. I actually started a blog post on the subject a few weeks ago and it is sitting in my drafts box. The kids had had a rough afternoon on the bus so I made a banana custard for dessert. And I never make dessert unless we have visitors. But they needed comfort. And I equated comfort with food and thus perpetuated this to another generation. Well kind of. Except I have discovered that I am doing this.

I helped out at a breastfeeding education class a few weeks back. One of the things we look at in the class is the role of dads in breastfeeding. A lot of women report they feel pressure to give their baby artificial food because it means that Dad can feed the baby. One of the messages was that we have to remember that comfort can be given in many more ways than with food.

And now I am rambling! But I am trying to get my eating back on track. I did not enjoy the way I felt on Saturday afternoon. I know that part of anxiety disorder means that panic attacks will happen and I will have anxious periods, but I need to also recognise that I can do my bit to help alleviate the frequency of these events. I can exercise and I can eat properly and I can practice CBT.

And I can take part in the latest Bloggest Loser challenge. I am not setting out to win the competition or to even weigh myself each week, but I am changing the way I eat and attempting to change my lifestyle.

I joined the gym over 6 months ago now. In that time my body shape has changed. According to my measurements I have lost quite a bit from my waist and thunder thighs and managed to gain an extra centimeter in my bust!

But my weight has stayed the same. Actually to be honest, since the week before Christmas I have managed to find 3.5kg. This morning I signed up again to Weight Watchers. I don’t want to focus on numbers or weights as such, but I know I want to be healthier. I need to set a good example to my kids and I really have found the most amazing man and want to be around to spend time with him.

I like being able to track online (even if the stoopid database hadn’t heard of a cross-trainer!) and have thrown a feeler into the online community boards. I am not on a diet, but am making a conscious decision to change my lifestyle. It won’t happen overnight, but it will happen.

In my bloggest loser post I mentioned I was joining a gym. Well I have! And oh the pain and stiffness. Just goes to show how out of shape I am. Well round is a shape, I know, but, well, you get my drift.

So 30 minutes, 3 times a week, one of these times with Alex the PT might see me able to do this with MIML™…

OK, so not in the next few weeks, but in a year…