Day One

Tuesday 3rd April ‘06
73.5kg
Bust: 38” Waist: 33” Hips: 41.5”


I went for a run this morning. I thought I was going to die or be sick; or die then be sick, either would be accurate. It wasn’t my first run, in fact it was my fourth, not bad going for nearly 21 years I feel. You have to be something of an expert to avoid exercise for that long, and I am the all time master. At school I used to pull every trick in the book to get off PE: “forgetting” my kit, skiving off sick, sprained ankles and countless notes from my mum. It even got to the point at which I’d fake asthma attacks every time we were made to run anywhere. The only exercise I have ever been remotely interested in has involved adrenaline in some way. I have ridden horses since I was two, been on a few skiing trips and attended guides and all the accompanying outings abseiling or kayaking until I was about 15. I went through a brief, highly embarrassing period of ballet lessons, and there was even a time during puberty in which I could outrun my whole PE class. Having been the school fat kid all my life, this felt pretty good. However, this didn’t last long. I gave up ballet pretty quickly after myself, my teacher and all my snotty classmates realised my total ineptitude. Ski trips were not an affordable option for regular exercise, and even my beloved riding fell by the wayside as I started my A levels. Since leaving school the amount of exercise I take has dwindled to none, and my weight has slowly but steadily been on the increase. Since uni and the discovery of all you can eat Chinese buffets for £4.99, I am now the heaviest I have ever been. My only saving grace is (Underneath there somewhere) an hourglass figure and a 34E/F chest which balances me out a bit.

My friend had gone on holiday for a month in Australia with a fitness mad aunt. She came back full of beans, a stone lighter and running 3 miles every morning. Since then she and her housemate have been bullying me to go running with them. I had only been once previously, and that ended in tears, blisters and a real asthma attack, so I was not optimistic. After avoiding it for as long as possible I eventually relented for the sake of art. The results were not pretty. I went twice and had to give up due to shredded feet from my battered old trainers. This morning however, having gone home for the holidays full of promises to run, my mum lent me some trainers. Excuses to self thin on the ground, (Even the weather was uncharacteristically beautiful) I was forced to go. I didn’t do too badly considering. I made it all the way to the end of the cycle path before I died.