Thursday, 9 January 2014

Fab at Forty


2014 is the year I turn 40.  Not until the end of 2014, I’m at pains to make clear, but it is the year nonetheless.  So, it’s time to follow through with a pledge that I threw out there in the heady days of summer…to be a size 12 by I’m 40.  With 11 months and counting, there’s no time to lose.  I haven’t made any other resolutions, because quite frankly, this will take all my efforts.

So, L and I have set about our plans.  L isn’t 40 until 2015, but being a good friend she’s joining me on the journey.  If shaping up happened by planning alone, we’d be a pair of supermodels.  But alas it appears to require more moving and less eating.  Pah.

We’re extremely accomplished at talking about our fitness plans.  There are some plans to get running gathering dust, and L’s lovely and super-fit husband P has offered plans and chaperoning on dark nights.  We’ll get round to it.  I fear we have the potential to be fair-weather runners.  I’m more likely to be fair-weather shuffler, to be honest.  I’ve never voluntarily run.  I wouldn’t even run for buses, preferring to suffer the consequences of being late instead.    Since school cross-country, which I used to saunter around, the only times I’ve ever run have been to chase after a speeding toddler.

So how am I going to do it?  I’ve decided Boot Camp is my solution.  I have to tell you that this has caused varying levels of hilarity in the family.  I’ve persuaded L, and we’re mentally up for it if nothing else.  She’s suffering the effects of 30 Day Shred at the moment, and I’m suffering the effect of moving to a third floor office (my poor knees!  Someone thought there was gunfire when I walked up them last week!), so we’re signing up for March.  And we’ll have to do it now, because I’m publically declaring our intentions!  We went to a Zumba class run by the Boot Camp leader last night, and not only did we survive, we came out with an exercise high and happily have both been mobile today.  Although L has just text to say she is about to Shred, so I can’t speak for her mobility tomorrow!

Daughter is less than impressed.  She is unexplainably against me going to ‘fitness club’, as she calls it. That said, she’s against me going to the toilet alone (separation anxiety is still alive and kicking!) .  I think she’s worried she won’t be able to poke at my arms and declare me to have bingo wings, or wobble my tummy and growl ‘chubbeeee’ at me.

But I don’t want to be chubbeeeee anymore, and for the first time since our wedding, I’ve got a decent time bound goal.  I’ve got no plans for my 40th, but I know how I want to look on the photographs.  I’ve suggested to Husband that we renew our wedding vows at 10 years, which is after my 40th,  just so that I can wear the dress again, because it will fit me, but he’s not keen.  When I say not keen, I mean absolutely horrified by the idea!

Whatever I do to celebrate, I’m on the journey to be fab at forty now.  It’s long haul for sure, so wish me luck!

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