Gym Bunny

In light of this morning’s headlines pertaining to the intended £1,000 “fat” tax to be imposed on fast food eateries in a bid to curtail the British obesity epidemic, I thought I would dedicate this morning’s post to the gym. As someone who rarely (if ever) eats anything that comes under the heading: Fast Food (I’m not allowed or my trainer will personally see to it that I pay for consuming said food), I think this is good news though I am unsure what the impact will be. In the meantime however, it would be advisable for those people consuming the fast food to head to the gym for some fast classes… or slower ones, whatever takes your fancy. Plus, the more you work out the fitter you become and the less likely you’ll be to encounter eejits like the following…

So I was at the gym the other day busting my moves on the cross trainer and eavesdropping on the conversation going on beside me between a trainer and a new member. I later got chatting to the member (who incidentally was female, for your reference) deciding to impart my own gym-related wisdom to an exercise virgin.

‘Have you been coming to the gym long then?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I joined Virgin Active about three years ago,’ I replied.
‘Oh I see,’ she said. ‘So did you lose a lot of weight then?’

WTF!!

I may be being paranoid but I think she was implying that I must have been very fat to have been coming to the gym for three years and look the way I do (which is not “fat” if you must know). Jeez this woman should join the club my mother started back in my teens called “Berate daughter about her weight and appearance whenever one gets the opportunity”!! The woman then pointed to a slender thing on a treadmill over yonder and said, ‘She’s nice and slim, isn’t she.’ To which I replied, ‘Yes, let’s all strive for that shall we!’ and promptly hopped off the cross trainer in pursuit of some other form of exercise to help me vent my frustration.

Speaking of venting frustration, I love my weekly Wednesday 7am boxercise class – it really gets the heart-rate up and the muscles working hard. Though it amuses me to witness the range of strength and boxing style showcased every week. Thanks to my trainer who showed me how to move and position myself properly I feel confident with my technique; however the same cannot be said of some of my sparring partners. To explain I have sequestered them into categories:

The Cat
She swipes her paws (gloves) playfully at you in a kind of ‘come hither’ slash fly swatting manoeuvre, with no real energy behind her.

The Gentle Giant
He’s built like a brick shithouse, probably took heaps of steroids and prides himself on spending 5 out of 7 days preening in front of the mirror at the gym flexing his biceps and triceps with a 4 kilo weight. In short, his punch ain’t got no punch. He’s all muscle and no follow-through if you get my meaning.

The Midget
She’s so teeny you probably didn’t even realise she was there until you heard a yelp from somewhere beneath you to alert you to her presence. Predictably she punches like a girl and thus when donning pads against her there is no effort required on your part other than to smile politely and hold still.

The Batsman
Pads or gloves, this guy is always in the proverbial ring. He just cannot help himself, he’s proud of his swing and that’s all he wants to do… All. Class. Long. So beware when you are sparring with him, he may dislocate your wrist.

The Pro
This is your ideal sparring partner, male or female, they know what they’re doing, they’re patient if you don’t entirely know what you’re doing and their technique is faultless. The only caveat – they’ll probably never partner with you again once they realise how shite you actually are!!

So there you have it, your 101 on boxing classes – take note, it will serve you well. Tomorrow I will be revisiting my love for Ashtanga yoga, again at the wholly unearthly hour of 7am (yes this means a 5.30am alarm and 6am departure from homely abode) – catch ya then!

Excuse me now while I go devour a gallon or two of water…

Exercising my right to stay in bed...

The cold weather is staging its yearly vendetta,
Convincing me that abandoning the gym for a lie-in is better.

Far better to stay where it’s warm and treadmill free,
Than emerge at dawn into conditions that are dark and icy.

The effort before bed of packing a bag, remembering trainers, knickers and shampoo,
When it’s so much easier to just stay at home where those things are all in plain view.

I’ll just walk up the five flights of stairs that take me from ground floor to work,
That’ll get the blood pumping and legs a burning, and without costing the earth.

Though of course that monthly membership fee with trickle on out of my account,
But I do go on Saturdays and train extra hard, I’m doing something to make it count.

It’s easier to plan to get out of bed when the light’s streaming in through your window,
When you don’t have to pile on a million layers just to take leave of your bed throw.

‘Cause the heating ain’t on at 5am so the house resembles an igloo,
And at this time of year I’m battling, all the yucky symptoms of flu.

No, my weekday gym visits may well be postponed, at least till the looming new year,
When I’ll reboot my resolve before the cold came, and force myself to persevere.

I’ll convince myself, that the violent shivering, that comes with these cold weather days,
Will shed many pounds of unwanted weight, leaving me trim for parties.

So my Saturday work-outs will just have to do, as I weight out the ice, rain and snow,
And then I’ll return, fighting fit, to reclaim that svelte figure I used to know.

Body Talk

We are bombarded on a daily basis with 'new' treatments, diets and exercise plans all promising to tone, carve and mould our bodies into beautiful submission. In the lead-up to my wedding, words like 'Scarsdale Diet' and 'Weight Watchers' were thrown around, and that was just by my bridesmaids terrified of not looking their best and it wasn't even their big day.

Beautiful models and glamorous, slender movie stars were put on this earth, we are certain, in order to show us what could be achieved (via extravagent sums spent on a personal trainer, private chef, hairdresser, stylist and make-up artist), but an ideal that will always remain just out of reach to the vast majority.

It doesn't matter how much I yearn to look like Scarlett Johansson, the likelihood is I just won't - I like food too damn much!

I drink copious amounts of water and green and white tea, I exercise 4-5 times a week and I moisturise my skin twice a day. I've tried the lemon and maple syrup detox, the Alli weight loss pill and not eating carbs after 5pm, and they all worked for the brief period I allowed them into my daily routine - but I like chocolate, and chips, and meat, and pasta, and pizza (I could go on). Don't get me wrong, I am not the size of a small house, but I'm not a size 'Jennifer Aniston' either. I'm an average 12-14 female who occasionally struggles into her jeans, holds in her tummy when it's eaten just that bit too much and has 'fat days'...

So, what's the answer? Believe me, I do not eat the items listed above regularly and my pasta is wholewheat. But fad diets and celebrity health 'experts' inform us that to really lose weight, the key is to cut these foodstuffs out of our lives completely and I just don't want to.

Moderation. Moderation. Moderation.
The mantra drummed into me by my mother from a very young age and one that should be applied to every area in life, in my opinion. That and having the willpower to withstand cravings, the patience to prepare your own healthy lunches and resist the 3.30pm urge to run to the corner shop for a Bounty... it's hard.

I realise this may be the rantings of a fat woman, but really this is the stream of consciousness that most likely scrolls through the mind of nearly every woman on a daily basis. The best we can do is fill up our water bottles, stock up on green tea, exercise regularly and take it one day at a time. Step by step...

Today, I started the day with a vitamin C drink and two pitta breads with peanut butter (not fantastically healthy but peanut butter is slow releasing, it wasn't lathered on and I haven't snacked yet and don't intend to). I have two bottles of cold water on my desk, no coffee (don't drink the stuff) and my lunch is in the fridge - wholewheat pasta with pesto, preprepared last night. I don't plan to eat again until dinner time, which will involve a roasted chicken, boiled potatoes and broccoli.

I will let you know if I was successful, and whether this approach to food can help you shed the pounds.