Originally published on firstimehitched.blogspot.com – July 2010
I used to hate the Summer. Hate having to wear less clothing. Hate having to try to feign wanting to go on a diet. Hated being on a diet.
Me and my weight have always had a tough relationship.
I was athletic when I was younger. Gymnast from 5-11 years old. Short distance runner and relay champ.
This enabled my growing body to diffuse calories quicker than lightning and define it with muscles and have no boobies.
Moving to senior school meant, less gymnastics, less running. More homework and a sudden interest in boys and, HELLO, mahoosive jugs.
Since then, my love affairs extended from boys to food.
I L.O.V.E food.
I married a Man who also loves food. In fact I am to blame for his love of food. He was very ‘vanilla’ when he met me. I get him to try all the things I love and try something new.
This does not help my waistline.
My Sister is a qualified chef. You do the math.
So you can see my problem. I’m a food whore. And a sloth.
The only activity that I actually enjoy is swimming. I think this is because it doesn’t actually feel like work. Your floating so essentially the water is carrying you. And you don’t sweat, or at least it doesn’t look like sweat.
I see swimming as a solitary exercise. Yes you can participate in water aerobics and swim with a buddy, but have you actually tried swimming and talking? I get out of breath just writing about it so I’d be useless as actually doing it.
My issue is, when I work long hours and Hubs works long hours and we have little time together, is it fair that I take pleasure in swimming alone?
I know it isn’t really an issue, but (and I can’t actually believe I am writing this) will swimming become a guilty pleasure?
But If I am going to be a fit (as in ‘Phwoar’ not physical fitness) wife, then I am going to have to make a sacrifice.
Hope my Husband knows how much effort I am putting in for him 😉