I’m feeling very conflicted at the moment about my weight (again!), and it’s not fun.
For starters, I’ve been feeling very connected to being a Fit Fattie recently, no doubt helped by receiving my Flying Rhinos t-shirt from Ragen Chastain and wearing it with pride to the gym last night.
I squatted 80kg (80%) for 3 sets of 5 and it felt fiiiiine. Then I tried to deadlift 100kg standing on 2 mats for 4 sets of 2, and only managed 3 measly singles which felt awful. Still, I guess you can’t have everything.
As usual, the more I read about getting lean/losing weight/getting “healthy” on fitness blogs, the more I want to say FUCK THAT SHIT and stay heavy and gloriously fatty and “unhealthy”.
BUT ON THE OTHER HAND… if I don’t get under 72kg by 12pm on September 20th, then I can’t compete in the British championships. And that, frankly, would suck.
I mean, it wouldn’t be the end of the world, life would still go on. But it’d be embarrassing, I’d no doubt cry, part of me would think all the training I’m doing would go to waste (although the other part of me knows that’s BS).
(Can we talk about how so many fitness blogs advocate “throwing away the scale”? Like, I didn’t start caring about my weight until I started lifting. Isn’t the opposite of what’s meant to happen? I miss the days where I didn’t give a fuck.)
So for the last 10 days or so I’ve been avoiding added sugar (with the exception of a piece of cake on Friday afternoon – we have free cake at work and hello free cake) and bread/pasta. I’ve been trying to eat low-ish carbs – e.g. swapping my usual oven frites with my steak last night for green beans (I tried to convince myself they were “green frites”). I’ve also stopped eating yogurt with protein powder for breakfast, in favour of two eggs fried in coconut oil.
And I have lost… precisely nothing. I know it’s only been 10 days, but come on, seriously? Nothing?! I worked out six times last week! I ate more eggs in that week than I ate in the previous month! My jeans are less tight! Even my coach said I was leaner-looking in the face!
Life, frankly, is not fair. Maybe now that I’m squarely in my late 30s (*sob*) I have to accept that I can’t just stop eating bread for a week or so and magically lose 1kg. Maybe I need to get that effing 270kg total so I can move up to the 84kg class, godammit.
I had planned to go up to the 84s after I turn 40, but maybe it needs to happen sooner, if only for my sanity. In the meantime, I will keep eating eggs, and no more than one portion of fruit a day, and green veg instead of frites (sigh) and pray & pray & pray I’m 72.0kg on September 20th.
And if I’m not, I will have a cry and hate myself for a bit, then aim to compete in the 84kg class in 2015, instead of 2017. Maybe the award for the UK’s shortest 84kg lifter is one I can actually win!