i’m concerned that my last post made me sound like an anorexic barbie, panicking about her appearance and arse.
i’d just like to state, categorically, that:
1) i am not a barbie
2) i am not anorexic
3) i do actually quite like my body
4) i am going to the gym to get fit enough so that i don’t die at herrang in july (provided i get the grant so i can go do the field work)
5) i do secretly fancy myself as a linda hamilton type. i think i could look good in muscles
so why the gym, not-barbie?
i wasn’t getting enough exercise and was increasing in girth. not a huge problem in itself (i always feel the same size, and am surprised when i can’t fit into pants), but had practical concerns: i couldn’t afford to keep myself in pants; it was harder to dance a lot; i was getting less flexible – mass = harder to bend; and so on.
so far it has been observed that ‘yes, you are getting smaller’ and ‘you jiggle less now’. unfortunately, the latter point also applies to the bust area, as the natural consequence of weight loss. and while The Squeeze greets my front with ever-increasing mournfulness, i am assuring him that a stronger ‘poss will also mean more robust displays of affection, which he quite likes.
