I took on #OpBabyWeight at some point last year yet have somehow ended up fatter than ever. Despite trying numerous diets and fads, I could comfortably fill most of White Dee’s wardrobe and my thighs are as dimply as a pre-pubescent Harry Styles. I just don’t think the motivation was truly there.
I did toy with the idea of dropping it all together. I think I might have a dose of body-morphia as I don’t really see what others do when I stand naked in front of the mirror. I’m the queen of self-adoring selfies and can make a Quagmire-chin disappear on my trusty iPhone camera in seconds. When buttons pop off shirts and knickers leave red marks around my midriff, I put it down to the way I sat that day, and not the sheer of size of what is being crammed into them.
When I casually floated the idea of giving up my baby weight challenge around the Christmas table, I expected my family to tell me I looked fabulous exactly how I was, but their reaction was markedly different. My in-laws frowned, Craig looked deflated and my jaw virtually hit the pile of gravy-laden roasties on my plate. I know these people love me, but I get the feeling it’s correlative; shrink me and there’ll be less of me to love but the same amount of adoration as before - makes sense right?
So I’m going on a health-kick in the New Year.
It’s not a diet, it’s a lifestyle change.
It’s not a New Year’s resolution either. New Year is good for one thing only; copious amounts of alcohol, carpet stain remover and hangovers. I’m also all too aware that New Year’s Day is possibly the worst ever time to KO a healthy eating plan given a full English is the best way to stop a bellyful of beer repeating on you when you’re knee deep in morning nappies. Straight after this epic binge is my birthday where I’m usually whisked away for a 3 course meal and a naughty night away. No way will I feel in the mood to show Craig a good time if he’s scoffing down wine, steak and profiteroles, and I’m staring at a plate of salad and glass of water.
I’m not making excuses. This journey does have a very clear start-date. On the 5th January, I’ll be going through a guided detox thanks to the amazing Alex Smallman. A former fitness professional and now franchise owner of JuicePlus+. She’s fun, inspiring and full of positivity; exactly what I need when the scotch eggs start calling for me from the fridge.
On week one she’s putting me through a punishing detox and has already warned me that I’ll be cutting out dairy, gluten and sugar. As someone who doesn’t even know what gluten is, this should be interesting and a real body shock. The effects will be tough, severe and brilliant all in one (expect child-like tantrums when she strips away my Diet Cokes and cherry bakewells).
It’s all about prepping me for month one where I’ll be on a Juice Plus+ plan (with vitamins and protein shakes) helpfully tarted up with delicious recipes designed by Alex especially for me.
Elsewhere, my battle with the bulge will be sponsored by Decathlon, NutriBullet, and a continued relationship with the gorgeous Lisa from Sculptlite, and one very special collaboration to be revealed in a few days time. Needless to say I have the very best equipment and people onboard who are all a Skype conversation away and ready to tell me off or pat me on the back when the occasion arises.
I’ll try not to bore you all with dreadfully serious posts with leafy green recipes and pictures of me half-naked. There are still reviews galore from the likes of Dreams, Babymoov, Munchkin and La Roche Posay, it’s just that next month will be peppered with YouTube videos that will rival The Apprentice’s Felipe Alviar-Baqeuro’s Fat Daddy campaign, and Instagram pics of this mummy regaining a waist she hasn’t seen since 2005. Enjoy!
That’s it from me.
If you’re not pissed already, get on with it!
