Forget the floaty dresses, the exposed skin and playful days frolicking happily on the beach in a bikini.
I spent last summer – the entire summer – wearing Spanx.
And when I say “entire summer”, I mean entire summer.
Everywhere I went, they went.
For three long months, I engaged in a ferocious, near-death daily battle with my lycra scuba suit. And believe me, hoisting that mofo up and into place each morning quite literally became a battle of the bulge.
Whether it was at work (both on and off screen) or at play, my wardrobe essential was this stupid pair of power panties. They held everything in place and stopped the wiggly bits from jiggling so much. But the breaking point came at a formal outdoor wedding late last year, on a blistering 40-degree day. With my thighs and torso encased like a Bratwurst sausage, I knew that something had to give.
And it did.
The zip on my beautiful gown broke.
Our 40's are the so-called "in between decade" and a time of noticeable physical changes for many of us. So far I've managed to cope with the emerging crows feet and the odd grey hair rather well. But when it comes to body image, well that's another story.
My metabolism was recently put on a permanent hiatus. And it sucked. Big time.
The medico’s say it sometimes happens when you hit the halfway mark in life. I blame a demanding full time job, combined with a turbulent, life-changing event that left little time for exercise. And any spare hours I had were devoted to my three school aged kids, housework and generally just 'keeping it all together'.
In short, my work/life balance was completely out of whack - and my 44-year-old broken down body was paying the price. Big time.
So I decided to take matters into my own hands … I needed to ditch the damned Spanx and reclaim my health. But first I needed look fear in the face and get my arse into a proper gym. I was absolutely terrified.