One year ago, on the 17th of June 2012, I made a Big Decision. I had made a few before in the previous year: I made the Big Decision to quit my job at the bookshop, I made the Big Decision to start freelancing as a translator, and on the 17th of June 2012, I made another Big Decision. I don't even quite know what brought it on, but what I do know is that on the evening of that day in June, I had had enough of what I was doing with my life and needed a big change that I had complete and utter control over, unlike my work Decisions: I decided to get fit!
|Don't mind my grumpface. It was cold!|
|Awful picture is awful. Jeesh, Stef, who taught you how to dress, monkeys?!|
|After about 2 months in, I could slowly start to see some changes in my face. That felt amazing!|
As time ticked on, I became more and more of a gym rat: I spent at least 2 hours, 3 times a week at the gym, I started running (and ended up in physical therapy because I'm a dolt with weird muscles), I started to incorporate more weights into my workouts. At the end of 2012, I was down well over 15 kg! I could go shopping with my mother and actually fit into stuff in the regular section! No more shopping trips that ended in tears and despair! I even fit into jeans from a shop I used to love! The body image issues I talked about in my opening post a year ago still reared their heads every now and then, when I couldn't see any progress or had a shitty day and ate everything in sight. But I was slowly learning to come to terms with it!
|It was 2013... And look at that! A shape, that can be described as more than just 'blob'!|
I found support in the ranks of the members of Fitocracy when I needed it, it turning rapidly into my favourite online hangout, paired with a great group of ladies in a Ravelry group I'm a member of (Cheerclub! Fistbump!). I also found support in my family members and of course Tim. I even managed to drag my mother to the gym with me and got her to pick up some heavier weights a few times. She loves it!
|Approximately 1 year difference! The sign is my trainer's way of being ironic. Burpees. How I hate them. Ugh!|