My dad was here visiting Tuesday and Wednesday. He used to be so active and sporty, but he is over 70 now with some heart problems and high blood pressure and he needs a lot more rest than he used to. We went to the zoo and whenever the kids and I watched an animal for more than a minute he sat on the nearest bench. And he sounded out of breath quite often. It was a bit sad and scary. He eats plenty of vegetables and isn't overweight but still has meat three times a day and at least a bottle of wine. He is on a million types of medication but washes the pills down with wine, which is worrying, but he isn't about to stop.
Anyway, I don't leave him to babysit so I didn't get to the gym those two days, but I went yesterday and today with the kids in creche. Today was BodyPump, and when we got to the tricep track I learned that it was to be the same one as Monday -- the one I can't do any of. I didn't feel inclined to run from the room crying again, and didn't want to sit there waving my arms feebly for the whole track as I tried to approximate what we were supposed to do, so I took a radical approach. While everyone else did tricep dips and then stood lowering hand weights behind their heads, I lay on my step with my bar and did the moves I can do! There are essentially two moves; lowering the bar to your forehead, and lowering the bar to your waist. I did that over and over in time to the music, following the instructors shouts to "two and two", "three and one" etc. And it was fine. I used my lighter weights as I am used to only doing about half a track then struggling with the bits I can't do; today I did the whole track -- my way.
So what if I wasn't doing the same thing as everyone else in the crowded room? Why would they care, and why would I care if they did?
I had a bit of a wardrobe disaster in the afternoon, but not that kind! My jeans had worn through on the inner thigh seams (from my legs rubbing together) and I desperately needed new ones. Clothes shopping with kids is never fun, and it's still school holidays, so I decided the easiest thing would be to buy a pair exactly the same as my old ones. I tried them on in the shop and they seemed a bit unflatteringly snug, but the salesgirl assured me they stretch half a size with wear. She pinned up the legs (I am only 152 cm -- 5 foot -- so all my trousers get shortened) and sent them off to be tailored. And I came home and checked the old pair of jeans waiting to be thrown out. They are a size larger than the ones I bought today. Bugger.
The new ones may well stretch a bit with wear, but they will also shrink again every time I wash them. They are paid for and are, as we speak, being altered for my height; so I can't change them for a larger pair. I probably won't be able to sit comfortably in them, and they gave me a muffin top. I did hesitate over them at the time, but I was so sure they were the same as the ones I had at home...
I'm guessing I can't wear them until I lose a bit of weight. Yet another motivation. Pity it's not working. Still stuffing my face. Doesn't matter if there is no unhealthy food available; I'll have bread, cereal, cheese, whatever is there that is laden with calories. But I've also been having unhealthy food, especially spending school holidays with the kids. We saw a movie today. 'Nuff said.
After this weekend the school holidays will be over and time to get back into a regular routine. Work. Gym. Parties five weekends in a row.
My little boy turns five next month. How can he be nearly five?