Tag Archives: Fitness


I was standing in line at the DMV and the lady next to me was renewing her license. She was asked to look over her information.

“It’s correct except I don’t weigh 50kgs anymore.”

My ears started flapping, but I prevented myself from turning to stare at her. No one wants to be gawked at like a freak on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Ok how much do you weigh now?”

“I think, maybe 60kgs?”

She doesn’t look self conscious. She doesn’t giggle shyly or hang her head ashamed. No one can say for sure, but to an onlooker it seems like she gained 10kgs and that is just fine. Normal. Unremarkable. Not noteworthy.

I have never put my correct weight on my driver’s license. I always lowball – within REASON.

At ballet school we were taught to subtract 10lbs from our actual weight when asked for an audition. As a rule of thumb I have continued to do this because it seems REASONABLE. Reasonable to lie about my weight because no number is ever really acceptable.

Today I went to get a cup of coffee in the mall and a shop employee was hob nobbing with the barista. No one can say for sure, but she looked like she was afflicted with the rex. I had admired her skeletal like arms as she handed me my coffee with trembling hands and a smile that lit up her pale, hollowed out face.

The shop employee was showing the barista his lunch. She looked at it like a maniac. Like she was fascinated and revolted at the same time.

“I’m not going to eat all of it now,” he informed her and her co-coffee worker. “I guess I’m telling you so that you don’t laugh at my fat ass.”

The other barista comments on how she likes to tell herself she will save food for later and then eats it all in one sitting instead. I’m stirring my coffee slowly, deliberately eavesdropping.

The rexy barista hasn’t moved. She is in the same spot still transfixed by this lunch that has wandered in to high jack her shift.

He gets his coffee from skinny and skinnier behind the espresso machine and looks at his lunch with unbridled delight.

“I’m only 15lbs away from my goal weight anyway.”

I pick up my coffee and stroll out into the banal abyss of mall. I take my extra 15 pounds of “baby” weight with me. My extra 15 pounds of sleepless nights, more calories for breastfeeding, anxiety, bad day with the babies, hormonal, postpartum, non exercising excuses, sneaky glasses of wine and a few too many chocolate binges of baby weight.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,


I am triggered by everything:

A photo of dancers I used to idolize when I was 16 and starving, desperate to be even half as skinny as they were and still are. I scroll past them. My brain does a double take. I back track. I scrutinize their emaciated arms, their collar bones, their sunken cheek bones. They are all smiles, superior in their anorexia, mocking me. Twenty years have gone by and they are still thinner than thin.

I see my reflection in an unsafe mirror…so that’s what thighs and hips and stomachs look like after two babies in quick succession – well mine anyway. A vast, mass of undefined lard, rolling and oozing and overflowing, fleshy like raw dumplings, doughy like unbaked bread, ever expanding…never ending. Never ceasing to amaze me in horror to fascinate me as I stare. “Is that really me?” I don’t recognize myself, this untamed, unmanageable, out of control lump. I don’t fit into my clothes or my brains neatly, compartmentalized boxes: bulimic ballerina has been replaced with fat stay-at-home-mum. Fat, frumpy, fleshy, unfit to be a mother or an anorexic.

I read an ED memoir a friend lends me. I stop. I put it away on a shelf where I cannot see it. I pick it back up a week later. It makes me remember that I used to purge just as easily as I breathed. After this long, would I even notice if it crept back in? If I slipped a couple of times that were more intentional than unintentional? After all, there are days where I seamlessly substitute my calories as I go. Latte? No, americano. Vegan mayo? No, mustard. Salad dressing? Not necessary. More pasta? No, more veggies. Two slices of toast? No, three quarters of one slice is more than enough for breastfeeding two babies. I shake so much, so often from hunger. I don’t get any thinner.

I don’t want to think of the other bad days where I unintentionally eat two muffins instead of one. When I eat half a bag of chocolate chips and then wonder why I’m carrying this “baby weight” 7 Months later. I’m surprised when these things happen. Half a packet of digestive biscuits later I am unsure where I went wrong. But I’ve never pretended to know so why start now?

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Anything but gym

Lately I have developed a loathing for going to gym which I have never really had before. I am so disinterested in it. In fact since the miscarriage, I have lost interest in a lot of things I used to care about.

This week I avoided going to the gym by using every excuse I could think of:

  • I’m tired
  • I’m depressed
  • I think I’m getting sick
  • I should put in more time at work
  • I feel sad

On several occasions I got into my car to go to work. Once I even ended up at my gym. I parked my car and walked into the mall instead of the gym. I bought two pairs of shoes. I bought lunch and a coffee. I walked past the gym, got back in my car and went back to work where I ate my feelings.

I just don’t care anymore. My size and weight are distressing to me, but not enough to do anything about it. I lay in bed the other night not wanting to do anything. I don’t want to go to work or see friends or make plans. I just want nothingness; the absence of everything except perhaps a book and a bottle of wine.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

SICK (in the head, the heart and the body)

I am sick. Again. There was just a week in between one throat and chest infection before the next one started. Once again I am coughing, my tonsils are swollen and covered in white spots and I wake up every morning with my eyes crusted shut. On top of that I have a migraine from purging. I am too tired and weak to exercise. On the bright side, I have lost 5.5lbs since my doctor weighed me 12 days ago. I jump on the scale every morning and hold my breath. Or, more accurately, I creep onto it tentatively (one toe at a time) while repeating a mantra under my breath: “Please, please, please, please….please. Let today be the day.”

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Guilt And The Lazy Saturday

Guilt And The Lazy Saturday

I woke up today and didn’t want to go the gym. The guilt ate me for breakfast. On days that I don’t go to gym, I do the T25 or Insanity workouts at home. I prefer Insanity because I am insane.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

The End Of Productivity

The End Of Productivity

I was going to be productive today on my day off. I had planned to go to gym: 30 minutes of HIIT and one hour of iron reps which I do every Monday. Instead I slept in, woke up and put baileys in my coffee. End of productivity.

I was out of town for work yesterday and I feel that it derailed my healthy eating and exercise which I am getting frustrated with. For four days I have had the urge to starve. On Saturday I consumed 537 calories. It felt better to me than 1200 which I have been reaching everyday. It felt like I was back to “normal”.

Not only have I had the urge to starve, but I have NOT had the urge to binge. This for me, is always the beginning of the next bout of starvation and weight loss and I am ready to welcome it with open arms. It has been too long.

“Have you lost weight?” I nodded at the colleague who never fails to notice my ever fluctuating body. “Just don’t go too far this time, ok?”

I walked away laughing. Too far? That’s my favourite place to be.

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

I’m A Machine

I'm A Machine

I’m a tank to be precise.

I skipped dinner last night. For the briefest of moments today, I woke up and felt thinner. I put my new workout clothes on (I rewarded myself for not bingeing), and went to the gym. As soon as I walked into the studio and looked at my reflection, I was furious. I am huge. I am big, heavy, undefined and hideous. Three months of working out, counting calories and reducing my ED behaviours have done nothing for me. I am bigger than I was at Christmas when I went home and that was big enough.

I worked out for 90 minutes today. Half an hour of HIIT and an hour of weight lifting. I begin to wonder why I bother. I am not losing size and I have no definition. I am just thick and chunky and bulky and revolting.

My girlfriend asked me if I have taken before and after photos to motivate me or track my progress and I laugh because the thought is ridiculous. I was thinner BEFORE I started working out five times a week and eating a “healthy” 1200 calories a day. I was thinner when I was starving, bingeing and purging regularly. I looked at photos taken last year when I was 15lbs lighter and I wanted to cry. I wasn’t anorexic looking but I was thin, for me. I loved it. And it is long gone.

Why take photos? To remind myself that ED works and being healthy doesn’t? I can see that every day in the mirror. I don’t need any more “motivation”.

Here is a picture of me 15lbs ago.




Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

Ballet: You Are What You Eat

Ballet: You Are What You Eat

Two subjects that are always close to my heart: ballet and ED.

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Operation “Fat Ass”

Today begins operation “fat ass”. My colleague at work tells me that my arse is flat he calls me “flat ass” as a joke (keep in mind that I teach at a professional ballet school). I tried for so long to just dump as much weight as I could that I never really paid much attention to my butt. I have always been far more concerned with my gargantuan thighs to notice that although my rear end got thinner it also got flat and flabby. Lately I have been haunted by the rippling cellulite that covers my thighs and bum and last night I had a good honest look in the mirror to decide what to do about it.
Yes, it needs to be smaller but if it is not going to be smaller, then it should at least be tight and toned and not so saggy looking. So in the manner of all things that I do (obsessively) I am starting operation “fat ass” with gusto to see what will happen with some concentrated effort being applied to that one area for the next little while. Here is my latest inspiration from the Pinterest pages of health and fitness:
Hope you enjoy these as much as I am about too!
Tagged , , , ,