Bec: "I publicly pledged to lose weight but instead, I gained."







For some reason (WAS I DRUNK?) on 23 July I decided to announce how much I weighed and commit to doing regular exercise for the first time in years.

No idea what I’m talking about? Here’s how it went down …

“So what this means is that right now I’m the heaviest I’ve ever been (excluding my four pregnancies and, err, the 12 months I lived in London in the 90s). I can’t fit into my clothes. I feel unfit and lethargic. How bad is it? My stomach currently sticks out further than my boobs. So yeah, THAT WOULD BE BAD.

Which is why a few weeks ago – as yet another person glanced down at my stomach with the words “How far along are you? “ about to roll off their tongue – I made the somewhat bold move to buy myself an elliptical machine.

I figure exercising at home will be cheaper than gym fees in the long run and also give me the flexibility of exercising at home where there truly are no excuses (It’s raining! The crèche is closed! The gym is closed! Quincy is sleeping! Fin is sleeping! It’s too hot outside! I’ll get my eyes pecked out by magpies!)

 Why an elliptical? No idea. Other than the fact someone told me they are better on your joints than treadmills. So here’s my plan. I’m going to actually start exercising again. Forty-five minutes a day, five days a week. I’m being realistic. Right now, that’s as good as it’s going to get.

But I figure that’s better than what I had been doing which was, err, NOTHING AT ALL.”

I’ve gained weight.

Did you get that?


No, no – not muscle. You, over there. Stop typing a comment about how muscle weighs more than fat. This isn’t muscle. This is pasta. And coconut cakes. And leftovers from my kids’ dinner.

Turns out that no amount of exercise can cancel out shoving junk food in your pie-hole.  And that’s what I am most guilty of. I’m a sugar addict for starters. And then there’s the fact my portion sizes are huge. AND since I spend all day in my kitchen preparing meals and snacks for my kids … somehow I was eating their leftovers with a Nutella sandwich chaser.

So, it’s time for PLAN B. 


I’m sorting out how I’m eating. And I have to start eating like a grown up – not like an 18-year-old whose parents are away for the weekend.

One of my close friends is having huge success on the Michelle Bridges program – she’s lost about 6 kilos in 5 weeks so far. She has another 10 to go, she reckons.  Naturally I said, “How did you lose weight?” because I want a magic answer. And it was all very boring because she said it’s learning new recipes and teaching herself to make better choices (and smaller portion sizes). SNORE.

But look, I know that’s the answer. I am simply eating too much food, too much sugary, crappy food and not doing enough exercise to burn it off.

So I’m thinking of doing Michelle Bridges. (No this is not a sponsored post for Michelle Bridges – but she can send me a cheque if she feels so inclined).

I’m not a fan of diets. They don’t’ work. But that said, I obviously need to make changes to how and what I eat.  If you want to get fit and lose some of the fat on your stomach (me!) and thighs (me!) and arse (also me!) … then you can’t keep eating cakes and biscuits every day. Who knew?

I’ll check in again in six weeks if anyone is interested.  Wish me luck.