Comparing Meerkats!

Evening one and all, 

So after last week's blog post I thought that I would have lost at least something after attending a few more sessions at my local gym and after following the weeks of personal training sessions it would appear that all the hard work is starting to pay off. More and more people are starting to notice that I have lost a bit of timber. In fact, at my weekly meeting on Thursday last week I was told by my personal trainer that I had lost nearly two stone in the last 8 weeks or so. Hard to think that I have had several social events, two holidays and even Christmas as well. I am so pleased with myself and whilst I am still in the size 18 category in most shops I am certain that I will not be there for long. Anyway on with the show ...  

This weekend was going to be a game changer and something that would hopefully change the spending habits of Mr Warehouse and I, all in preparation for us to hopefully own our own home. Be it this year or next (and heaven forbid if it is any longer than that) I would like Mr Warehouse and I to be in a home that we own, at least in part anyway. I know that it is almost as a pipe dream thinking that I might be able to move in and buy a house by the end of the year, but the way I see it is that if I do not aim high I will not get anywhere, constantly frittering away money on nothing. Obviously, that all being said it was almost a pointless waste of time getting up early on Saturday morning. 

Waking after a late night watching crap TV and listening to Mr Warehouse tap away on his Xbox, we were late and to make matters worse what woke me up was a phone call from the bank. Unfortunately for me they were calling to let me know that despite my 30-minute phone call earlier in the week with a customer service adviser at the Call Center, the information I gave regarding wanting an appointment to speak with an adviser about saving for our first home and potentially about getting a mortgage had not been passed on. Infuriated, I certainly did not have time to discuss the reasons as to the Call Center's fuck up. Angry and annoyed at the fact that I had not woken up on time and was now about to be late to our first appointment with a different bank for the same reasoning as before. Running out of time, I ended the call, threw on some clothes and slapped on some make-up and headed for the car. 

On arriving to our first meeting with a mortgage adviser, nearly 25-minutes late, Mr Warehouse and I stood in the queue like total lemons waiting for someone to come and talk to us. Once the in-branch staff had finished dealing with all the other busy customers and they had and finally got on to seeing us, it was far too late to do anything and as a result we were turned away. I suppose in a way it was my fault and I should have made sure my alarm was set and whilst it is not a major problem in the grand old scheme of things it was certainly annoying to have not one but two appointments for through on the same day, one of which at least was out of our control. 

With this, I thought that Mr Warehouse and I would probably find somewhere for a cheeky fry-up and maybe a spot of shopping. Nope! Following a march out into the street from the bank foyer, Mr Warehouse and I started to crack with each other. The niggles and snaps came thick and fast as we both understood each other's frustration at the mornings activities, or not as the case maybe. Feeling like the world was against us, not to mention each other, we headed home and kept ourselves to ourselves. I was angry that we had missed our appointment and Mr Warehouse was not accommodating in any which way with what he wanted to do after the morning activities had fallen through. Mr Warehouse was annoyed that I was annoyed about the banks miscommunication and ergo missing our other appointment. The most frustrating thing about being in a relationship with Mr Warehouse is the fact that he does not want to argue and refuses to have any confrontation whatsoever. Everyone enjoys a good bust-up right? 

Sitting in silence as I scrolled through my phone whilst the Bae cleaning the kitchen I certainly felt guilty for taking it out on him when it was not really his fault. Obviously I am a woman and would never let on that I was never in the wrong. Nevertheless when the dog farted and broke the silence we couldn't help but look at each other and laugh. Following our unfortunate morning we headed out in the afternoon in order to go and play with some Meerkats. 

I had bought Mr Warehouse a present of being a zoo-keeper for the day for his birthday in August last year, and including looking after all animals and cute ones, scary ones and creepy ones he opted instead to look after some Meerkats. Certainly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and I would highly recommend the activity for anybody who enjoys animals and wildlife especially those with kids. Maybe not something about Mr Warehouse and I could take our smaller relative to due to the fact that they are either loud and rambunctious but also that my cousins are quite timid and are more like scaredy cats than Meerkats. A nice meal out courtesy of the whoever brought us the Nando's voucher for Christmas and a trip to the pub to watch the football on Sunday pretty much concluded our weekend. Suffice to say that it has probably been the most active of weekends since before Christmas I am certainly glad to be having things to look forward to instead of thinking about how far away our summer holiday is! Uhhh So Long!!!

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

Welcome to Slim-uary!

Hello, 

So as the chill sets in and everyone appears to be battening down the hatches in preparation for bad weather and a lack of social interaction due to the fact that nobody has any money for at least another fortnight or so. And here I am feeling like I have money to burn. The struggle is real and I am starting to wonder why I ever chose to not book a holiday early this year. You see after all my work colleagues had booked last minute holidays, all of them snatching up all the great bargains and good deals, leaving Mr Warehouse and I in a bit of a tizz as to why we have spent nearly seven-hundred quid on such a holiday that was barely worth half that. 

With this in mind, 2018 will probably be our last big holiday until we own a home. This is why I am looking to go on an all expenses extra kind of holiday. Where to you ask but the thing is nobody knows. Well that is until about six to eight weeks before we fly that is. I would like to go somewhere warm and ideally long haul. Maybe America, Mexico, Caribbean or Hawaii? Who knows I may end up in Thailand eating noodles from some back end bar and having to pull Mr. Warehouse away from the Lady-boys! I am sure that where ever and when ever we book it will be magical and something to treasure whilst we save like squirrels for our house. 

With the weather in England as unpredictable as my my hair colour (Blue, pink, orange, red - You name it we've been there) it is far too early to start thinking about summer yet. Now I am sure that you are just as eager as I am, ready and waiting to strip off, ready to hit the beach in a new bikini and have everyone turn to look at you. However the only reason that I think anybody would be looking my way on holiday is to see what a state I was or to clear the road to the buffet cart. 

OK so I may jest a little about my weight and in no uncertain terms and I taking the piss out of people that heavier or larger. You are beautiful each and everyone of you. Your bodies do fantastic things like keep you alive and bore you children. You should appreciate them and all that they do for you. So why am I hear bashing myself about my own weight you may say. Well, that is because I'm not happy with myself in the dress size I am. For what seems like year after year has now started to turn into decade after decade and despite being only in my mid-twenties, I feel like I dress like somebody ten-years older than me. I want to feel beautiful and for people to compliment me for once and actually mean it. 

Rightly or wrongly I know that people, sadly mostly my family, make passing comments about my weight and have done for many years. My family has always been big especially on my father's side and with the recent deterioration of my grandfather and his health, I can only assume that his lifestyle choices will probably be the end of him. And sadly I have no sympathy for him. Don't get me wrong I fully empathise with his situation and following retirement from what was a very active lifestyle jumping in and out of lorries all day he is now fully bed-bound and in need of round the clock care. It is sad and upsetting to see him in this way especially when he has had such a huge influence on my life. We are not very close by any means but that does not mean that I do not care for him very much and it worries me to think that this time next year he may not be with us. 

Maybe this is why I have joined a local gym and started a better and more healthier eating plan. I have signed up to you and been attending personal training sessions for the last few weeks with some astonishing figures that even I did not expect. In the last 6 weeks I have lost over ten-centimetres off my waist along with over seven-centimetres off my hips and sadly one-centimetres off my bust! Sad Face! And I don't want to be down to a size stupid, pottering around with a head bigger than my daily intake of calories and a waist the same circumference as a tangerine (Which by the way I would not able to eat since it was not vegan friendly, gluten free or multivitamin infused). I would however like to enjoy my summer prancing around in the sunshine, wearing a kitsch tea dress and looking as curvy and cute as I did back in college all whilst cramming down a hot-dog or two. 

I want to enjoy my food as well as my figure and wardrobe. I don't really think that I should have to compromise on either in order to have a good time or indeed enjoy life. I would like to say that by the time the annual family fun day at work is in full swing and Mr Warehouse and I are preparing for another year celebrating a pool and darts tournament in aid of his grandfather I would like to be at least one dress size smaller than I am now. Hopefully I can get there however it will probably be quite a lot of hard work, determination and willpower. Now where did I put my kale and avocado smoothie ... 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx

One Size Does Not Fit All!

Afternoon All, 

So the moment has come (nearly) when the shops start blaring out Christmas hits and everyone starts barging in Tesco for the last box of mince pies! But as everyone clammers for that Gold Sequin number in Topshop, here I am wishing I could fit in to Primark sizes let alone any of the other High Street or Online party dress offerings. 

Ever since I can remember I have always been a larger size. At my High School Prom I look back on the photos of me that will take him that evening and think about how skinny and then I was. I looked a bit odd with my large head on my small underdeveloped frame. True to my Emo / Scene kids self I wore a handmade "Cold November Rain" inspired prom dress compromising of a corseted bodice and a graduated hemline skirt of black silk and pink neon chiffon. I had a collar bone and arms with shoulders to be proud of. I was a size 12. Now, a decade on, I am four dress sizes bigger and with the High street now struggling to cater to my less than agile physique, three weeks ago I decided to finally do something about it. I joined a new Gym opening for less than a tenner a month and have decided to also invest in a personal trainer to help kick start the weight loss and journey to a thinner, happier and hopefully more attractive me!

My inspiration really has to come from somewhere I have spent most of my time and that is at work. One girl there has grabbed the bull by the horns and has thrown herself into the exercise and fitness regimes like a female baaws I have never seen before. Triple-Thursdays are now a thing where three back-to-back classes are in attendance every week along with work out Wednesdays and Gym-Time-Tuesday. OK the last two I made up but Triple-Thursday is a real thing. A the beginning of the year I admired her. By the Summer I was in awe of her achievements and now, I look back as we all do on the transformation she has made and applaud her for all the hard work and effort she has put in. But in all fairness it is not you or I that see the difference or reap the benefits, nor even the lucky man she has on her arm, but her. She worked so damn hard because at some point she reached where I am now in the fact that I don't want to be that Mommy that sits on the park bench watching the kids play. I want to chase after them and run around too, not sitting reading a book I don't like because I get out of breath just looking at the roundabout. I want to be able to run round the park after my step-pooch and one day my own little fluff ball playing hide-and-seek and chase. I want to run up the stairs and not almost pass out at the top. 

After my first week I was hella nervous and on entering the new Gym complex where I was to begin my Personal Training Sessions I was a little scared. Normally friendly and bubbly to the point of being in your face I couldn't have become more opposite, now preferring to be a wallflower, fading into insignificance. Although I am a plus-size gal so that ain't happening any time soon. Starting off on the treadmill I was OK, a little breathy but OK. But that was just the warm up. Next were kettle bell swinging and steps. Again, a little more out of puff but still managing to hold a conversation. following that my PT decided to crank it up a notch by introducing me to the ropes and medicine balls. Again, looking at them I thought that they might be a little more tough but something I can handle. Yeah it was OK but I was certainly starting to feel it. Sweating in all the places I never expected to I carried on, trying to battle my way through. Finally those reps were done and I rewarded myself with some water and a moments rest. But then. Then came the dreaded box of doom. 

Twenty-inches high, the cube came up to above my knee. "I have had skirts longer than that" I thought to myself. "But you also couldn't fit into them now, could you fatty!" the devil on my shoulder said in retaliation. Spurring me on I soldiered through the gruelling task of simply stepping up onto the box and stepping back down. Sounds easy enough but by ten repetitions in I needed to stop. My vision was blurry and becoming tunnelled. I could feel waves of heat washing over me and every movement of my head or body made me want to be sick. Not wanting to Vom on my PT I took a rest and sat down for fear I might stumble. I knew my limit and I was super-unfit. Regretting the cigarettes and booze and takeaways I walked out of the venue bidding farewell to the staff thinking that I could do what I always do and just never come back. 

The question is would that really benefit me? The brutal answer is no it wouldn't and in less than six-weeks time I would be wondering why I am still the same size as I was last year and the year before and the year before that, all in the hope that somewhere does nice dresses in fat sizes for my Christmas party at work. Now I am not trying to say that all people size twenty (UK) and above need to go and join a gym and get on a strict diet of lettuce and carrot sticks, but what I am saying is that I am sick and tired of looking in every shop at beautiful dresses or outfits and all in the knowledge that they are not made for my frame or size. I have had enough of seeing stylish and sexy clothes that I cannot wear because they do not fit either on the arms, bust or waist and on the odd occasion I will hit a hat-trick of all three being completely wrong in an outfit that looks stunning on the size eight model. 

I returned last week for my first full paying session with the personal trainer. She is now costing my £45.00 for six-sessions of thirty-minutes every week and at a value of less than £7.50 per session I think that works out fantastic value and gets me exactly where I want to be. I wasn't as nervous as a first time walking through the doors, and in actual fact being greeted by people that already knew my face was quite a blessing. Oddly enough I had been looking forward to it. And whilst it was hard with more of the ropes, medicine balls and kettle bells, plus a few squats and lunges for good measure I was pleased to not feel as out of breath as I was the week before. No nausea. No blurred vision. No having to stop. Powering through it like my own female baaws. I have not quite got the Triple-Thursday crave yet, but I certainly walk out of the place now feeling more confident, achieved and even with a smile of my face looking forward to my next session. 

'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx