After my wobble last night I had a long chat with my family about the implications of posting my progress photos. The reactions were as follows:
#1: “You know that you are going to have to share those photos”
#2: “I don’t know what you think the internet is Mum, but no one is going to be mean to a middle aged woman trying to lose weight”
#3: “Yeah whatever you think”.
I was awake early, as is usual when I have weighty things on my mind. My beautiful dog and I headed out of the door before 6am. I had 100% battery in my bluetooth headphones and no intention of returning home until I had some clarity about the way forward – or 8:45, whichever was sooner.
One of the things that I have loved most about the last 9 weeks is that I have rekindled my love affair with music that I like (as opposed to Eminem, Horrible Histories and The Smiths).
It turns out that the music I like is mostly rather dubious europop, 90s club “classics” (which are somewhat offensively called “Old Skool Classics” on Spotify (when did my music become “old skool”?)) a variety of 2010s club tracks and some dodgy rock. Oh, and a dazzling selection of electronic dance music.
Actually, the 90s was probably the last time that I trained properly so my taste in workout music is clearly stuck in a time warp. But I don’t care. When I pop my headphones into my ears there is no one to say “urrrggh god can I switch this off” or “this is utter crap”.
My dog is happy to be out in the fields and she simply doesn’t mind that ‘the club can’t handle me’.
I have a carefully curated playlist of 7 hours of these excellent tunes and after 45 minutes of power walking everything became clear. I have to continue with the blog. I love writing; it helps me make sense of the nonsense in my head and it entertains my friends.
I know that this means that I will need to put my progress photos out there and for the first time, I think that I’m ok with that.
It time to stop writing about my neuroses about writing a blog and devote myself to getting on with the real thing.