Alright, I admit, self-loathing is a little strong. Let’s rather call it mildly dissatisfied and slightly guilt-ridden. That’s more like it.
Here’s the story:
When I was little, I was a bean pole. Straight up and down, I never battled to lose weight. (Of course, I was a child. Weight loss was far from my mind, just as it should be at that age – and now, but that’s a post for anther day). At some point in high school things started to change and even though I was far from fat when I got married, it wasn’t long before I fixed that. By the time I had Goldilocks I was a buxom 92kg! And let’s face it, no new born can be held responsible for ALL 38kg of her mother’s excess weight.
I lost the weight quickly after Goldilocks was born through the simple use of a lifestyle trick: cutting out gluten, lactose and sugar. (It turns out casein is the culprit rather than lactose, but again that story is not part of this one). When Red Riding Hood made her appearance, I’d hardly gained 10kg, and I lost it all pretty quickly.
Since then my weight has hovered around a mark roughly 5-10kg above my goal weight. It’s hardly been affected by how much I’ve eaten, and no amount of exercise seemed to change anything on the scale or my proportions. In fact, I was completely resigned to be a pear-shaped blimp with gradually expanding thighs and derrière. My favourite “chill protocol” was lying in front of the TV on the couch with a bag of potato or corn crisps (no wheat, please!), watching a movie with my man.
I really didn’t see the point of exercise since:
a – I always got sick as soon as I started a work out programme.
b – I was always far too tired to move a muscle.
c – No change occurred to my weight or shape.
d – I was close enough to my goal weight to be “comfortable”.
One day, quite by accident and without looking for anything on the topic at all, I stumbled across the Specific Carbohydrate Diet (SCD). I was intrigued and after lots of research, I decided to give it a go.
Almost at once, I was hooked. I was amazed at how my body changed shape. My skin started to clear up. My breathing and concentration improved. My tics diminished and, for the first time in my entire life, I had a flat stomach. (Not permanently, but I’ve never had a flat stomach at all, so I’ll take temporary flatness, thank you very much). I shed the 4kg I had to go at that time to reach my goal weight, and since then my body keeps changing (slimmer and slimmer thighs and behind) while my weight stays stable. My girls and I started having regular bowel movements, which I’m sorry to share, but seriously, if you only go every 8-10 days and then you start going every day, it makes a significant impact on your quality of life!
An unexpected side effect was energy. I was feeling drained at first on the intro diet, and my sister suggested I start doing Pilates. I did, and the next thing I knew I’d started training for a half marathon. I started doing Body for Life in my “spare time”, while I was making supper, running a bath, watching TV – that kind of thing.
I’m now seriously considering investing in Running Shoes (note the caps), and I can no longer sleep in at all. If I do (like I did today, only getting up at 6am), I am less productive and aching to strap on my trainers and hit the tarmac. I’m addicted! I feel great and I want to keep moving all the time.
Here’s the thing, though: I’m scared to stop. I remember my old ways, my lethargy and exhaustion. My low-grade depression and lack of motivation. I don’t want to go back. I’m so worried about turning back into that person that I’ll sometimes run, do Pilates AND train weights in one day, just to stay focused and energised. When I was sick a little while back as a result of a mould allergy, it took a force of will not to go for a jog and make things worse.
So, here’s my confession:
Hi. I’m Mama Bear, and I’m an addict. I love running (and weight training, and Pilates) – and I never want to stop! My couch is a den of vice and iniquity and I fear to touch it lest I become reinfected with sloth!