Charlotte Louise

A dry January

No I’m not talking about the weather. That would just be silly.

I’m talking about abstaining from the glorious nectar that is alcohol. Any form. Wine, beer, vodka, Jack Daniels, Bailey’s, pretty much anything that I had on tap over Christmas.

In favour of my “eat less, do more” lifestyle that I am learning to adapt to (with aching muscles to prove it) I thought it would be sensible (afterthought - stupid) to give up alcohol on weekdays. Not easily done, but I conquered the good stuff. But then I had to get all competitive with myself and decide to give up until my birthday - 25th January for those who wish to worship and adore.

So I am one week down with around two more to go.

Fab.

All in all, this lifestyle change does seem to be working. Have made acquaintances with the gym again, which is no easy feat when I have to battle with my boobs if I so much as decide to skip, let alone run. Thankfully I am not in black-eye stages as of yet, though the male glances (admiring or horrified, unsure which) are a little disconcerting. Thankfully with the aid of one’s bright pink iPod, I can pretend I’m Beyonce, Katy Perry or similar. Unfortunately, have habit of forgetting where I am and can be known to sing. “I kissed a girl and I liked iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!” doesn’t quite have the right affect when surrounded by sweaty individuals with their game face on.

When I am not at the gym, which is pretty much most of the time, because I am, by no means, a gym bunny, (gym bear perhaps?) I have resorted to dancing around the living room in form of hog gazelle, elegantly completing Clare from Steps’ fitness video. I have become very talented at this and have only banged into the sofa once or twice. Even have personal trainer, in form of Jack Russell, who for all his enthusiasm, prefers sit-ups or Canine Cardiovascular Activity, which he has wittily shortened to Walkies. Either way, progress is progress.

Food-wise, while the fat girl inside me screams for mashed potato, I am favouring forcing myself to eat the delectable nourishment that is soup, soup or water, switching only for a balanced meal in the evenings. Boring isn’t it?

Have now resorted to opening my Naughty Cupboard and staring lustfully, drool optional. Have also developed stalker tendencies and tend to frequent the chocolate aisle far too often at Sainsbury’s. Sure that Cadbury’s will take out a restraining order against me at some point, either that or enrol into some form of protection programme, while I rub Fruit & Nut all over my face while screaming…

I digress.

Yeah, so diet is going well then.

My arse hurts…

So today I had a mental day at work. Loads to do, but hell, I thrive on that.

Was good and kept nibbling at bay while my colleagues scoffed sweeties. It’s pretty easy to resist now, I don’t even have the taste for sweets and biscuits anymore.

Kept the cals low, which was good. I know some people think: “Oh God, she’s not eating loads of food, she must have an eating disorder.” But I am such a piggy. Honestly. Stuffing my face with food is NOT healthy so I am trying to change my ways. Don’t call me fat and then judge me for wanting to make a difference. This isn’t to you in particular readers, but y’know…just sayin’…

Anyway, got home, walked the dog in the park and then went to vist my good friend Gym. (See what I did there Gym/Jim…anyway…)

I feel so much slimmer already. Finally, as I work my arse off on the numerous machines, I find that it’s pretty much just the boobs and the top of my thighs giving a little wobble now. This is good.

Anyway, I was a bit angry as there were two women who were clearly having a competition - you know, the sort where you try and beat the stranger on the machine next to you with the whole speed/cals/time thing, quite hilarious - and they were TOTALLY hogging the cross-trainer. I wanted to do a full hour on it and was instead subjected to half an hour on the bike and only 20 minutes on the cross-trainer, with ten minutes of sit-ups. Not so bad, but I’m a right cow when I don’t get my way. Believe the term is “little madam.”

But now, as is usually the case, I am all achey and my ARSE REALLY HURTS. Bloody bike. Anyway, said arse is looking pretty good. Times like these, I thank Mother Nature for blessing me with tits and ass. Amen sister.

So now I am home, I have eaten. Some chicken, salad and a baked spud if you must know. Now I am bored as the boyfriend is doing boy-stuff, i.e. football. So Tumblr it is.

How boring?

Diet :(

Now I’ve finsihed that 30 Day Blog Challenge thing I haven’t been on here as much. Work is super-busy and I didn’t really know what to write.

Anyway, you probably know, due to my excessive whinging updates, that I am on a diet.

I have been for about 2 weeks now and it is going quite well. So much so, that my parents, who hadn’t seen me for 2 weeks, noted that I had lost weight. I am starting to like myself a bit now. So much so that I have been wearing dresses and pencil skirts, with my actual legs on show! I know, amazing isn’t it?

Anyway, I’ve been eating next to nothing during the day, usually Slim Fast followed by another Slim Fast if I need to feel full, or a single Cup-A-Soup and lots of water if I am feeling inspired. It has worked though and I have lost 5 pounds so far, which makes me feel special. I just need to keep it up.

Today, I allowed myself a treat, after 3 cups of coffee (semi-skimmed milk, 1 sweetener) and lots of water. I had sushi! Vegetarian of course, because it was lower in cals and fat and because I don’t eat seafood. It was only 229 calories and I feel so full. It’s a nice feeling.

The best part about this diet is that I have managed to shrink my stomach, both internally and externally (thank God). Now I don’t need as much food to feel full and I have noticed that water is my saviour, I just guzzle a bottle of that and I feel full again.

Tonight I will have whatever me and the boyfriend decide to make. Only with extra vegetables and less fat. But before that - gym.

I think I can do this…

Current: Size 16. Aim: Size 12.

Possible?

Slim Fast, Spanx and gym clothes…

So I started the old diet yesterday.

It consisted of:

• Breakfast: Chocolate Slim Fast and a coffee.
• Lunch: Chicken Salad and a Diet Coke.
• Dinner: Some pumpkin ravioli and a side salad.

No alcohol. No sweets. No treats.

I was actually quite proud of myself.

So now I’m trying to envisage being sexy again. I want to be a size 12-14 by my 23rd birthday in January. I am currently a 14-16-18 and I hate it. I would say I was aiming for a 12 but I’m scared it won’t happen in time.

I bought that gorgeous dress on my wish list by the way. It fits really well and shows off my curves, rather than adding to them. I think the Spanx will be coming out as well though, just in case.

Me and my old faithful, the gym, got back in touch too. I’m aiming to go at least three times a week, play badminton and take the dog on some crazily long walks.

I’m not a huge gym-lover. I used to be, but I was sexier back then and perhaps a little over-confident. Ironically I still have a coaster that reads “Addicted to the gym” that my younger brother bought me when he went away with a friend once. It wasn’t tongue-in-cheek either.

Anyway, I’m the sort that dreads it and then actually enjoys it when I’m there. I managed a straight 45 minutes on the cross trainer last night at a high level and intensity. I was actually really proud of myself. I plan to do an hour next time.

The only thing I don’t like about the gym is the clothes. I mean, what the hell do you wear?

I have sizeable boobs okay? I own titanium enforced sports bras and supportive tops, but still I catch some of the fellas give me the once over. Maybe my milkshake is better than theirs but do they have to keep looking!?

I am one of those total girly girls that refuses to leave the house without looking marginally decent. Me and my make-up bag are best pals and I pride myself on looking polished. You will find all of the must-haves in my handbag, including deodorant, perfume, make-up for touch ups, hair brush, sunglasses, umbrella, you name it.

Anyway, I hate wearing gym clothes because me and sporty aren’t a combination that go hand in hand. I end up wearing my dance pants from when I did my shows and the cutest top I can find in *ENTER SPORTS SHOP HERE.*

I have a really cute Nike one that I wore last night but when you feel fat like me, going to the gym is more of a mission than an excursion.

I just want to feel invisible comfortable. I don’t want men looking at my chest. I don’t want women sizing me up.

Most of all. I don’t want someone to point, laugh and tell me I’m fat…