Just before I drifted off to sleep last night I spent a few minutes reflecting on the progress I’ve made over the last few months. Days like yesterday really bring it home to me how every cheese ball I resist and every bead of sweat I generate are totally worth it.
We had an off-site meeting for work, and they’d set the room out with a bunch of chairs arranged in rows facing forward…let’s just say the chairs weren’t made with comfort in mind. We held it in the upstairs room of a trendy bar in the city centre, and I don’t imagine the chairs were selected with a fat middle-aged demographic in mind, you know?
Not only were they hard, they were fairly small and arranged quite close together. Now, I was uncomfortable, but then so was everybody else. It wasn’t because I’m fat, it was because they were really shit chairs. You know what though, I couldn’t help thinking that even six months ago I wouldn’t have been just uncomfortable, I would have been in my own private version of hell.
I couldn’t have walked the half-mile or so from the car park to the venue without feeling like I wanted to die. Especially with my boss, who stands six feet five inches in his socks and has legs a mile long…even yesterday I was practically trotting along beside him as we headed in for the meeting, three of my short fat steps matching one of his leggy strides. I think I’d have feigned a broken leg six months ago just to end the torture.
The room was upstairs, so even if I’d made it to the venue, the stairs would have just about finished me off. And the toilets were downstairs in the basement, so if I’d felt the call of nature I can pretty much guarantee I’d have chosen to sit there all day with a bladder like a space hopper rather than attempting two flights down and two flights back up again.
Are you with me so far? I feel like I’m painting a picture of the old me, sweating like a stuck pig, spilling over a small hard chair after a long walk and a steep flight of stairs, out of breath with hair that would have gotten more wild and curly with every step. Miserable, and trying to hold in all my fat so it didn’t bother the person sat beside me.
And when it came to my turn to present my slides, I would have been so pre-occupied with what a hot mess I looked, there’s no way I would’ve been able to relax and get into any kind of stride with my presentation. Despite the shit chair, I’d have been desperate to get back to it. There were no tables to lean on so I could distribute my weight a bit, and within five minutes of sitting down I’d have had pins and needles in my legs and an aching arse, but even that would have been better than standing up there feeling like crap.
Worst of all, I would have felt completely trapped, knowing that this torture was only going to end after another half mile walk back to the car at daddy-long-legs speed.
Yesterday, I enjoyed the day. After a morning in the office, it was good to stretch my legs with a walk through York. Although the chairs really were shit (have I mentioned that?) I wasn’t any more uncomfortable than anyone else. I went downstairs for a wee twice without really thinking about the stairs, and when I was up at the front doing my presentation, what I looked like didn’t even occur to me as I walked the group through my slides.
The walk back to the car park at the end of the day was another opportunity to get a bit of air in my lungs after being cooped up all afternoon, and we even chatted about how the afternoon had gone, I mean get me, walking fast and speaking at the same time…who even knew that was possible.
Six months ago, I wouldn’t have made it, but now I can. I’m nowhere near Skinny Town yet, but every day I take a tiny step nearer to normal, and if I ever needed any encouragement to keep going, well that’s it…I’m really getting there 🙂
