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Towards the end of last summer I had managed to get myself into a pretty good routine. I had cut way down on all things unhealthy in my diet (except wine of course) and I started going to yoga once a week with some friends. Honestly I felt pretty amazing, my mum-tum basically disappeared (aswell as the delightful bit on my upper arms that jiggles when I wave) and my ever-present neck and back pain was the most bearable it had been in a very long time. I felt so much fitter and more confident in all my clothes and I really enjoyed getting out for an hour each week by myself, without the girls (hopefully that doesn't make me sound like the worst mother ever, I'm sure most parents can relate) but then one week was missed, and then another and then I just wasn't going anymore. The routine had been broken and I just couldn't get back into the way of things. I told myself I'd work out myself at home instead as it just made more sense with rising commitments and working around the family, that happened twice and now I'm back to eating everything I shouldn't and my jeans are getting tighter (as all my tops get baggier trying to cover up the ever increasing tummy!)
I mean my jeans still button (for now) so that's a bonus but I'm not comfortable, I'm constantly tired and my skin's pretty rubbish so this is me stating (once again, and probably not for the last time either) that I'm going to sort my s**t out. In a moment of massive un-realistic, over-confidence, and probably under the influence of wine, I told my husband that I could have a six-pack by the time my big birthday comes around in July. That's very doubtful but I am determined to at least feel confident and happy in myself and being able to wear whatever I so desire and feel comfortable, be that a fitted bodycon dress or fluffy pyjamas (the pjs are a much more likely scenario to be fair!)
Anyhow here goes nothing, healthy, happy mama here I come.............feck I'm going to miss crisps though.............