Squeezed, Wangled and Manoeuvred

I cannot procrastinate another day. Time is now of the essence. My diet which was starting eight weeks ago must now actually begin. I have exactly three weeks until I leave on my French, a` la mer vacances. Now, I do realise that I can’t compete with the chic French women who genetically cannot gain weight. It’s a fact, there have been books written about it, ‘Why French women aren’t fat.’ Something to do with possessing the stick insect gene and smoking a lot. However, I am determined to make some headway into shifting the 10 – 15 lb ring which has mercilessly spread itself around my waist like butter cream icing between two cakes. Oh dear, see what I mean? It’s almost hopeless, even my weight analogies are to do with food!

After my first three children, it was a doddle to cut back and get my body back into a trim, relatively desirable shape. (Well, almost. It's never quite the same is it?)  However, following my fourth munchkin, just prior to my ‘big birthday’, it’s been way harder if not nigh on impossible to lose and maintain an acceptable weight.  Alas, it would appear that the urban method is true, it’s harder for a woman over the age of forty to lose weight than a woman under that age. Believe me, I’ve googled it. Very depressing reading, I couldn’t even finish reading the article.   My teenage daughter assures me that she will never allow herself to get fat after having babies. She said that she’ll spend all her time down the gym, working out to maintain her pre-pregnancy body. How quaint. Good luck with that chick. Oh yes, being the parent of a teenager does provide one with ample opportunities for honing the skill of biting one’s tongue.

You would think the thought of buying new swimwear would be enough to spur me into action. We have all been there and spent much time and energy, wangling our way into all types and shapes of costumes, in hope that at least one will be somewhat flattering. What normally results is after  having squeezed, wangled and manoeuvred our way awkwardly in and then out again of these supposedly ‘lycra-flattering' suits; we go home and dig out our old ones and just make do with those. I did have the momentary thought of popping down to ASDA/WALMART to buy one from there. It’s a sure fire way to give yourself a quick boost as we all know that their sizing guide is incredibly generous. You can actually kid yourself into believing that the diet that you have been on for the entire week, okay morning, is starting to show results. If I attempted to buy myself a bikini, tankini or one piece in the exact same size elsewhere, I’d be lucky if I could fit half of my body in it!

Now, I am a fairly self-assured, confident woman and I know that I don’t have to sport the proportions of a stick insect to be happy. As most of us British gals have noticed, if we compare super thin, Gillian McKeith’s picture with curvy, voluptuous Nigella Lawson’s photo, it’s clearly obvious to see who looks happier.  However, I defy anyone to find me a woman who would not be ecstatic at having lost 10 – 15lbs prior to parading herself on a French promenade. Please don’t think I have a completely warped sense of body size because I don’t. I know that I am not bordering on obese but there is only so long that I can tell myself that I’m just short for my weight. I don’t jump on and off the scales obsessively but you know when you know. Your favourite jeans are just a little too snug and your best skirt seems to keep riding up your thighs, making it slightly shorter than it used to be.

I must admit that I have also pondered the benefits of joining a slim watchers, skinny fast or some such weight loss world program, but am loathe to pay someone else to tell me what I already know. Eat less and exercise more.  It sounds so simple and easy if you say it quickly. What’s hard though is if your ‘get up and go’ just ‘got up and went’ without you realising it; leaving you feeling more c’est la vie than full of joie de vivre.

So where does this leave me? It’s time to take action. Being a shorty, at only 5ft 2inches tall; a little weight loss goes a long way. There’s nothing for it but to buckle myself in for a meagre menu over the next twenty one days. Better make that nineteen days as I’ll need a couple of days to venture out, hunting for the elusive, perfect swimsuit. I’m sure I can do this whole 'diet thing' if I put my mind to it. No more excuses. It starts now. After all, we  know that what we look like on the beach today, ends up on facebook tomorrow.

Disclaimer: All opinions in this post are arrived at through the ramblings of my own  mind and should not be taken as fact.  I do ask myself though, why am I bothering to diet when I am going on vacation to a land where I will be snarfing away on baguettes, cheese and red wine? Diet, shmiet. Hey kids, how about chocolate cake for dessert?