This I think is a rather nice little montage photo of me and my younger sister – sadly, I think it’s pretty obvious I am the ‘old-er’ sister, but that minor point aside, I like it and as it was taken at a family get together on Christmas Eve (we were opposite sides of the room and so there weren’t any photos of us together on the day, so I made this one) and it reminds me of a happy time.
I deliberately cut these photos in such a way as to show our best bits and hide the bits we aren’t so keen on – because during lunch she and I were both bemoaning the fact that with our increasing years has come that unwelcome visitor, the increasing waist-line – and there is no doubting, for me at any rate that this new shape I’ve developed over the last 5 or 6 years has become something of an un-budge-able feature; and as I trotted out my miseries of trying to find flattering clothes that didn’t make me look like a ageing matron, I could see my comments weren’t landing on deaf ears. Both of us it would seem could see the smock top looming large as the main staple of our future wardrobe.
What I didn’t mention at this family ‘do’ was that I had become completely fed up with it. As I looked over the photos from that day, all the happy smiling faces, I was drawn again and again to those of myself, and my ever critical eye could see all too clearly every detail of myself that I didn’t like seeing.
But it went deeper than that – deeper than the cosmetic. Because not only could I see a bigger version of myself but I could also see the beginnings of a more unhealthy self – a self who didn’t move very much at all, a self that was greedily tucking away the mince pies and christmas cake – who seemed to be on a nutritional self destruct path – because not only was my age waging a campaign against what I laughingly called a ‘figure’ these days, but my own self was diving head first into a world of impending type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, stiff joints and weak muscles – whilst age had marched forth, I had opened the door and allowed it in, to wreak havoc.
I don’t rightly know when I made the decision to change – I mean really change; change me, my food choices, my motivation to move. I had been dissatisfied with my physical appearance for some years – each lb so easily slipped on and impossible to slip off grew and grew – and every time I tried for a little while some new idea or plan only for it, for me, to fail within a few sorry weeks.
But I was better than that
Because I knew bloody well what I supposed to do – not fancy diets or faddies – no, I mean what I needed to do to turn my health and life around. No fast result – but a life long, do it because you mean it wholesale change.
And so as we approached Christmas, I started to think and to read – and to plan, plan my new self and begin to set it in motion over the Christmas holidays.
This was the beginning of my story – the story of how I intended to change me life around……..