Posted by: Admin | March 7, 2011

Jo Blogs (again)

Well, folks, it’s now just four months to my birthday and since daughter number 2 came home there’s been a lot of whispering going on. Laptop lids are quietly closed when I walk into the room and doors are closed when phone calls are made. Hopefully, that means that plans for my party are well underway! 🙂

Regular visitors to project50 will know that having a birthday party is a BIG THING for me. It will be the first of my adult life and the idea of being the centre of attention would normally fill me with dread. Part of my masterplan to embrace 50 involves stepping into the sunshine, however, and right from the start I was determined to have a party. (Hark at me – even now I’m trying to justify myself!)

Anyways, I got a bit of a shock the other day. My daughter persuaded me to try on some party dresses, an alien thing for me at the best of times since I’m a jeans and jumper kinda gal. What shocked me was my own reflection. I’ve been so busy these past few months I’ve kind of lost touch with my own body, so it gave me a shock to realise how er… stout I have become. (I also didn’t realise I was so short – maybe it was a fairground mirror in the changing room?)

I’ve blogged before about weight and fitness, so I won’t bore on. I just want you to witness the promise I am making to myself. Before I make it, though, I want to share a memory with you. For my husband’s 40th birthday, I booked a long weekend away in the Lake District. At that time, our four children were aged between 6 and 15 and life was full and hectic. I didn’t have a great deal of time or money to spend on myself and exercise was pretty low on my daily agenda: certainly nowhere near as high as eating cake.

Blae Tarn, Cumbria, UK

Well, with the children divided between my two sisters, we went away for some rare time alone together. Good food, wine and long walks in the countryside were on the agenda. Behind the hotel was a sizeable, wooded hill which we broached gung-ho soon after arriving. So out of shape was I that I was soon puffing and blowing and eventually I stopped. “You go on,” I told Husband of my heart, “I’ll wait here and enjoy the view and you can collect me on the way down.” You know that tactful way our loving menfolk have of telling us when we’re wrong? His response was something along the lines of: “Get any fatter and we’ll have to take a coach trip, then you can stay on the coach while the fit people go walking.”

I got fit then and I’ll do it again. I will not face fifty out of breath, out of shape and out of options. This is my promise to myself, witnessed by all of you: I will lose this excess weight and increase my fitness by my birthday. I’ll even feel good in a dress. That will be my birthday present to myself. I’m worth more than a life lived in elasticated waistbands. And I don’t ever want to be left on the coach.





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