Let's Be Honest

Before Christmas, I decided that I was going to start my New Years resolutions early and, more specifically, my biggest mission for 2015 around getting fit and healthy.

So - I checked out my local sports centre to see what classes were on.

My eyes lit on Boxercise starting in January. The reasons for my like are two-fold.

1) I like that it starts in January just in time for kicking off resolutions. I also hate the thought of joining a class mid way through. It would be like starting school and being the new girl that comes in once everyone already has a partner for going to the loo, or science, or whatever it is kids these days get paired for. (Did I really just say “kids these days”? How old am I?)

2) I enjoy it on the wii.


Then I noticed a class called RPM also starting in January. I don’t know what it stands for but it’s some sort of spinning class. It might even just stand for revs per minute - although that wouldn’t be particularly inventive if it was.

How exciting! I could get crazy with this spinning malarky and have a hot bod by February. I’d be one of those girls that comes out of the class a little bit shiny (not sweaty - shiny!) with the towel placed nonchalantly over my shoulders. Me and all my equally spandex friends (which I found in the class) would pretend not to notice as the guys drooled. Sipping from my water bottle that matched perfectly with my designer workout gear and trainers, I would feel invigorated after class - ready for my run home. All the while a catchy tune would play over the intercom like the soundtrack to a trendy movie.

Instead, I was laying vegged out on the sofa on a Wednesday afternoon before Christmas, having pigged out on my 3 course work Christmas lunch. And the mini mince pies and coffee. The telly was on, I was in my comfiest (read: unflattering and disgusting) comfy trousers and a jumper watching telly when… I suddenly remembered the fact that I’d signed myself up for the free taster session of RPM taking place the next morning.

Bugger.

I really didn’t want to go.

Now there are plenty of excuses that I could have used for not going.

It’s stormy and snowy out and I had decided to walk to the centre. I shouldn’t go for the good of my health.

If I enjoyed the class I’d want to return in January - that costs money that I don’t really have to spare. I shouldn’t go for the good of my finances.

I’d been at work for most of the week and I didn’t want to upset Tilly further by leaving her alone (and doing so on foot no less!). I shouldn’t for the mental health of my dog.

What if my heart exploded due to over exertion? Yes, this is a true fear I had and it doesn’t need further explaining.

But I decided to be honest…

I just didn’t want to go.

And that was when I realised that I was trying to be someone I wasn’t.

I’m not a gym bunny. I will never be rocking the spandex. I will never get excited by the thought of taking a run down to the gym to workout. Or even worse running home after the fact.

I’m not the kind of girl to have a line of guys drooling. I wouldn’t spend my money on designer anything. And if there was a theme tune playing for me, it would be more likely something cheesy than something trendy.

And do you know what? - admitting that was really freeing.

I immediately phoned the sports centre and cancelled my place at the session. I then went on the internet and closed the tab for the 10k run in April and all the other ridiculous ideas that I had when I thought I was the Malibu Barbie version of myself.

I don’t want to do any of these things. No sirree.

Then it hit me - it’s really no wonder I’ve been failing at this healthy lifestyle thing. I start up something I’m not committed to, don’t enjoy it but stick at it because I feel I should like it. I feel like the ‘perfect’ girl would and should enjoy it. Eventually, and I mean eventually, I decide to give it up. Then comes the berating, the negative talk and the feeling that I have failed and am some sort of quitter. And worse.

Instead of being back at square one, I’m at square minus one.

So I’m now determined to do something I want to when it comes to being healthy and exercising. Not something I wish I liked but something I actually do. Then I won’t quit because I won’t want to.

I’m not the perfect girl - I don’t even think she exists. Or maybe she just does in adverts and movies.

Either way - I don’t want to be perfect. Perfect would be far too much pressure.

I might still go to the Boxercise class but I’m going to have a good long think before I commit myself. Is this the real me that wants to take the class? Or is this the me I wish I was?

It’s time to be honest.

It’s time that the person I want to be is just myself.