It Started With A Dress: Squashed By Squats

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 25: Suffering Not So Silently I’m in my own version of hell. As I type I can’t walk, I can’t sit and I can’t help but feel a lot of pain in my legs. It’s official. I HATE SQUATS. Nobody warns you that when you’re on a mission to lose weight and look fabulous that you’ll end up walking like an extra from a Western movie. It was all part of a grand plan of attack. I started into my week with the gusto of a lady with a plan. Having started following a number of fitness inspiration blogs on Instagram (don’t judge me, you look at them too), I started wondering how long it would take me to have a washboard stomach… Don’t worry, I was eating bowls of cereal while I pondered. I haven’t lost the plot. Yet. But I figured that if this was ever going to become a reality, it was time to remove my gym swipe from its new home of keeping my bedroom window ajar, and to put it to its real use. You know, to let me back into the gym. I had the same guilt you feel when the priest asks you if you’ve been away, for months, since the last time you went to mass. I sheepishly swiped my card and made my way to the main gym floor. After an hour between the treadmill and an exercise bike, I knew I had to do something to inject some fun into the routine. Thinking I was clever, I signed up for cardio kickboxing. I like dance classes, and sure I might even pick up some self-defence tips. So, Tuesday morning came and pulling on my trackies and t-shirt I ran into the class with a burst of enthusiasm. I was greeted by five girls, who all looked rather toned and fit and I felt my bubble of excitement start to burst. I then made a rookie mistake. I asked them what the class is like. “You’re definitely going to feel it tomorrow. But it’s great. You’ll tone up and we’re all pretty good friends at this stage.” It sounded like a winning deal… until the class actually started. Between ten minutes of kick-boxing and steps- aerobics, there was intervals of burpees, jumping jacks and squats. Otherwise known as intervals of hell. I’d love to say I walked out of that class feeling like Rocky, but it’s safer to say I limped all the way home, and collapsed on the couch. Sipping water. Feeling like a trauma victim. I’m not sure how friendly those girls are, since I haven’t made my way back to a class since. I think I’ll stick to the pool for a bit longer and venture my next round of squats when I don’t have to go to work that week. Or you know, tackle stairs of any kind. If you need me, I’m sitting in my bath feeling sorry for myself amongst the bubbles. This week’s stats go a little something like this – Height: 5ft 8 Starting Weight: 174 lbs Current Weight: 154 lbs Weight Loss To Date: 20 lb Goal: 148 lbs Feeling: Every muscle in my body The Dress in Question… NOW FITS!!