I'm still not really sure what this blog is or what it will end up being or even what I hope to achieve with it. I expect it will act as a sort of shameful diary of my daily struggle between Dairy Milk and the treadmill. Between coming home with both the ingredients and good intentions for a healthy salad and the reality of ending up with a set meal for two (for one) from the local Indian takeaway.
When I was in school I used to be on every single sports team. Netball, football, rounders - you name it. I played badminton, I competed in fun runs and I played even more football outside of school. I was that girl that won sports day without breaking a sweat. 8 years later and it's a very different story…
I am SO unfit. I have the appetite of a baby killer whale, I am getting chubby around the edges and I am SO bored of being sat in front of Corrie night after night. (No offence Corrie - I still bloody love you). And that is probably the most honest thing I've said in ages. About a month ago I'd probably be telling you (and myself) that I was fit and active and that I could easily go to the gym and lose that extra Christmas weight no problem. But I've been kidding myself for too long. I am SO lazy, I can't stick to anything, I hate exercising and I can pull about 17 excuses out of thin air if it means I can sack off the gym and slip into my onesie with a cuppa and half a packet of Maryland double chocolate chip cookies.
15 year old me would be ashamed of what I've become.
So where does 25 year old me begin?
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