I received a wonderful compliment yesterday from a friend while I was on my walk.
She asked if I had lost weight and said, “You look like you have lost 5 kilos.” (My emphasis. Hey, it makes me feel good and it’s my blog.)
I told her I didn’t believe I had but I hadn’t stepped on the scales for a while. In fact I know I’ve put on weight but thanks anyway.
So… I’ve been walking regularly, sleeping well, drinking at least a litre of water on top of tea, going to Pilates and yoga. I have dropped the weights but will resume these exercises tomorrow.
My belly is growing. I blame menopause. I suggested I might have oestoparosis and that as a result my spine has shrunk and my belly is squashing together and looking bigger. Sounds sort of scientific to me.
Mr Sans put it as bluntly as Michelle Bridges. (Remember her here?) My wonderful, supportive, loving husband said, “Lucinda, you eat too much.”
Well, yes, but you bought all those Easter bunnies. That are still there much in the manner of Norman Lindsay’s magic pudding, even though I just have to eat a whole bunny at one sitting. (I try not to sound to defensive.)
OK, it is not all Mr Sans’ fault. I have been bad with bikkies, and salty snacks, and fruit (as in way too many of the first two but not enough of the last one.)
As this blog was firstly meant to track my amazing body transformation to a svelte, fit, toned glamour, I better get back on track.
So knowing I have been avoiding the scales, and sure I have put on weight, I ventured to the scales this morning. Back up to 68 kilos. Bugger!
I know I have previously written that scales should not be the gauge by which you measure your success and written about the Australian Heart Foundation’s measurement. But, quite frankly I couldn’t be arsed at the moment to take any other measurements.
Think it is time to watch what I put in my mouth!