Recently I have been trying to return my body to its pre baby glory. I have had a few challenges in making this happen. Firstly, I am skint, this means that I can’t join a gym and pay someone to force me into shape and help me with motivation.
Secondly, even if I had money for a gym membership I have a baby and apparently it is frowned upon to let your progeny crawl around the gym shouting “dadadadadadadadad!” and dribbling on everything whilst you work out.
This means that I have been looking for free, home based ways of working out.
I completed a thirty day summer body challenge. EVERY DAY. I did it! I huffed and puffed whilst the baby, lovely boyfriend and the fluffy family took it in turns to watch me swearing my way through exercises. At the end I had a massive sense of achievement and a massive tub of ice cream.
Now maybe it has something to do with the ice cream, but my body was not transformed into a slender super toned me.
I started to get the sneaking suspicion on day twenty eight that a miracle was not going to happen in the next two days, but I kept it up.
Maybe I set my expectations a bit too high, (I tend to do this LOTS with many things in my life) but it has been confirmed (through much complaining to friends who work out) that cardio was the thing that I needed. I probably do have lovely toned muscles now, you just cant see them through that pesky layer of baby weight (* ahem more like ice cream weight, it is a bit mean to blame poor baby, but I shall merrily kid myself and join all of the other mums out there).
This sort of exercise is the most hated by me.
It involves the most detestable running (shudders). I have bought running shoes. I wore them to do my exercises in. I have not run a single step in them. Not so much as a gentle jog.
I am instead walking. Yesterday a friend and I walked ten thousand steps (not on purpose, the bank was closed nearest to me so I had to go to the next nearest one which was a further mile away). It was a lovely, sunny day and with someone to chat to it was a good walk.
I was unprepared for walking this far though. I was wearing flip flops.
I now have a blister on the second from smallest toe, on the underneath.
When I returned home I was informed that we only burned three hundred and forty two calories doing this. That is hardly any ice cream at all. I also had to go and work in a busy pub until two in the morning. I dismissed the blister, threw on my work boots and kept on going.
The blister is HUGE and made of pain now. I am trying not to to be a massive wimp about it, if I can force a human out of my body all other pain should run from me as I laugh in its puny face. However that was nine months ago now, and my toe hurts. It really bloody hurts.
I am starting to feel annoyed with myself that I care so much about my body size. I am not fat, I am not even that much bigger than I was before I had my little man. I am reliably informed that running around after him should help the last little bit go away. I wish that I didn’t care so much. I wish that I still had the body of my early twenties. I wish that eating ice cream was a form of fat burning cardio.
I am impatient and lazy all at the same time.
But more than anything right now, my toe hurts.
And I want ice cream……..