In a new weekly feature, Her.ie newbie Liz is going to share her weight loss journey. She’ll be filling you in on fighting temptation, her willpower struggles with the cocktail menu and taking painfully slow steps towards regular exercise. All in the name of a dress. _____________________________________ Hanging on the wall at the end of my bed is the constant reminder I plan on shedding nearly two stone this year. I also plan on marking the trials and tribulations of ‘trying to be good’ – the favourite saying we all tout, and quickly replace when a cake is put in front of us. Week 37: Resolutions Come But Once A Year… Let’s just call a spade a spade, a roll a roll, or an extra tyre an extra tyre. This Christmas, I drank, ate and was merry. Merry all the way to a gain of 8lbs. I could tell you I was shocked and appalled at the scales, but when I wrestled my hand out of a box of Roses which I mauled by myself, I couldn’t start pointing fingers. My jeans were tighter and the only person I could blame was myself. But do you know what? I was ok with that, because if last year taught me anything, it was that eating full, wholesome foods and planning my meals was my ticket to a slinkier body with a couple of week’s practice. And the proof was in the pudding (or the vegetables in my case). In my first week post Christmas, without a meeting or depriving myself from a New Year’s Eve celebration, I lost 4.5lbs. Those stubborn pounds are going to be harder to shift, as well as actually hitting my ideal weight, but with the spirit of New Year, New You, and all the mottos you badger yourself with, I knew this was mine for the taking. So writing my list of resolutions for 2015, I decided that this was going to be the #YearofLiz. You mock, (I don’t blame you – how nerdy do I sound?!), but with this new mindset I decided long gone were the days of eating less but moving slightly. I don’t want to be fat skinny. You know those girls who drop a thousand pounds to look very lean but with no muscle. I don’t want to bag myself the tiny frame, but with no definition. There’s no point in looking tiny but saggy. This body deserves some TLC. We’re all tired of hearing about it, but strong is the new sexy, and I love a challenge. With that in mind I signed up to strength conditioning and training. It all started with a rather hungover New Year’s day, where I spent hours lying on the couch watching re-runs of Friends and treating myself to a McDonalds. Stretching my toes to the arm-rest I realised I may have left my bed, but I hadn’t moved at all that day. I knew I was definitely chancing my arm when sitting in the drive through, I reasoned that I totally deserved a treat. Hadn’t I actually left the house, AND changed out of my onesie?! A McFlurry seemed like a fair trade-off (we’ll ignore the large Big Mac meal I chowed down on in-between). Then I got to thinking. Monday to Friday, I sit at a desk for nine hours a day. Although I love my job, and chatting with the lovely ladies of Her.ie, it’s a scary thought that with the exception of walking to the kitchen for lunch, or the times I decide to stroll home rather than wait for a bus, I wouldn’t have much movement in my daily life. I also went through bursts of using the gym. Starting off with great gusto, and then slinking off when the latest Hunger Games film clashed with my only free night to train. I like to think Fat Amy and I would be besties... I toyed with the idea of buying a pedometer, but anyone who knows me knows I don’t do things by halves. And so, with a dull throbbing headache, I signed up to be whipped into shape. I was taking no prisoners. New Year, new recipes for healthy eating, and a new approach to fitness. It just so happened that my first session happened to be a traumatic driving experience. On it like a car bonnet has a whole new terrifying meaning for me. Pulling up at lights in my car, a random stranger decided this was the perfect opportunity to test his reflexes, and leapt onto my bonnet. Yes, I got him off after some swish of the wiper blades and a blast of the horn, but maybe this was a warning from God? Maybe I shouldn’t be exercising (I told my unfit/ dying for an excuse self). Instead I went into a class and did burpees, and lunges, and squats. I used kettlebells and weights and a little part of me died inside. This was 6am and my body was usually appreciating dreams of Gerard Butler. This was a cruel reality. Then as the hours progressed I sat in work and was presented with the most amazing birthday cake, of which I had two slices. Before you judge, it was my birthday. It was widely agreed that I showed great restraint in not making it my birthday month. January is dull enough, no-one would have blamed me. So I’m writing this after two days of excruciating pain, walking like a cowboy and lowering myself onto the toilet. (I’d say TMI but followers now know my menstrual cycle, so I think we’ve already passed appropriate). And do you know what’s even stranger? I kind of got a kick out of the pain. No this isn’t an admission of S&M. The fact I felt twinges where my body is SUPPOSED to have abs is kind of exciting? Maybe I’ll be my own cheese grater with a washboard stomach by May? For now I’ll settle with a girl who can walk. Not like a penguin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to die on a couch. This week’s stats look a little something like this… Height: 5ft 8 Starting Weight: 174 lbs Current Weight: 164.5 lbs Weight Loss To Date: 13.5 lb Goal: 148 lbs Feeling: In a LOT of pain The Dress in Question… NOW FITS!! Brought to you by Avonmore Slimline milk. Avonmore Slimline milk is fat free, giving you all the goodness of regular milk, with the added benefits of vitamins A and D, perfect for giving you that extra get up and go.