It pretty much says it all about how much I have battled weight in recent years that tipping the scales at 19 stone should be viewed as any kind of achievement.
It isn’t. It is morbidly obese. I know that and I am still embarrassed I let my body get in this condition. But it is three pounds better than last week.
There’s no point in self-consciousness now, not after all we have been through and shared.
I knew I looked like a dick, but so what? I didn’t know any of these people, and what should I care if they giggled at a fat, middle-aged man in an outsize version of a boxer’s sweat suit puffing away on a cross trainer?
All I know is that it felt like the sweat suit worked, and I didn’t kill myself using it.
The latest piece of kit to help me on the Two Fat Laddies quest has arrived.
A Ricky Hatton sweat suit.
Not pretty. Not pretty at all.
After all of last week’s efforts I was hoping for a much better return.
Seven proper workouts in seven days.
It’s a long time since I have been able to say that.
The last week has been great for me.
So this is the post I never wanted to write. It’s a confession of how I’ve spent the last six month on a binge, of how I’ve ruined most of the good efforts from before.
Of how I’m once again truly a Fat Laddie.
I could blame the knee injury, after all that’s when it began last November. I could blame pressures of work, struggle with time, how not getting a lift from Iain makes it hard – too hard – to get to boxing, of this constant cold.
The only thing I can truly blame is myself. My good old self indulgent lazy bastard self. And yes, I do feel a little vile and more than a little embarrassed.
I should have written it all down at the time of course, but I was too busy living life, wiping away tears of happiness and mirth.
These last few weeks have been amazing.
Don’t let anyone ever tell you that men don’t look at other men.
We do.
It hardly seems like four weeks ago that I was bigging up March and saying how important it was a real make or break month for Two Fat Laddies.
Real life got in the way of the quest to lose the full stone in the month before this weekend’s school reunion – but it is still coming off me. I am on track.
Since I last wrote I have been to Paris and Ireland for wildly different reasons, and tomorrow I’m driving home to Lewis for what I hope will be a memorable weekend.
March is already shaping up to be a vital month for Two Fat Laddies.
The nights are lengthening, there are crocuses by the side of the road, a hint of warmth in the air. It will be Easter in no time at all.
It also means we need to get our arses properly in gear this month if we are to have any hope of shifting the blubber in 2013.
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