I don’t very often talk about this. Only a couple of people know at this point. But that’s all about to change, isn’t it readers???
Today you’re going to get the guts and all version of what caused me, a year ago, to turn my life around. It’s not a pretty story, but it needs to be told. For me as much as anything.
I had a pregnant friend. She’s a lovely girl, and she was expecting her first baby. I’d been invited to the baby shower. Obviously she’s not pregnant any more, because she has the most gorgeous (not so) little boy, but then she was.
I spent the best part of 2 hours deciding what to wear. Back then I had work uniforms, a couple of good dresses, and one old faithful big baggy number than I wore everywhere. And as it was a distinctive print and I’d worn it the weekend prior to lunch with the same group of girls I was frantically trying to find something, anything, that actually fitted and didn’t make me look like a tank. Not an easy job, but eventually I settled on my work pants (navy and with the logo covered up) and some sort of shapeless t-shirt. Not ideal, but covered the important bits at least. And like I said, a 2 hour mission in futility.
On the way to the party I stopped to get petrol. At the petrol station I bent over to pick up the petrol cap that I’d dropped and yep, the arse split out of my pants. From my crutch to the waistband. Not the sort of thing you can easily cover up.
I paid for my petrol, got back in the car, drove around the corner and burst into tears. And there I sat. I turned the ringer off on my phone so I didn’t have to listen to my friends texts asking where I was. I very deliberately didn’t go straight home because I knew my husband wasn’t expecting me until later and he’d ask questions. So I sat for about 2 hours, by myself, on the side of the road, until it was a more respectable home time. I graphically described the event I hadn’t actually attended to him, games, food and all. I totally lied.
When I got on the computer than night there was an email from Michelle Bridges about the 12 Week Body Transformation. I hit the button on it before I could think any more about the fact that this was “just another weight loss program” and I’d fail at this one as well, like I had before.
And the rest, as they say, is history. And now I’m off to slog my transformed body up and over the Gateway Bridge on my bike. Because I can.