About a month ago I posted a picture on Instgram and Facebook of me in a changing room in Meadowhall. I was going on a Hen Do that weekend and needed an outfit for it and basically ended up crying in the car park, then ugly crying on my husband when I got home and was just a genral mess.

I have always been comfortable in my own skin. I’m not a small delicate girl, I’m 5’11” with a strong and more athletic build. There is nothing whimsical about me and I’m fine with that. My height and stature had been a great advantage playing netball and it was always funny that there is nearly a foot difference between me and my high school bestie Melsy.

Ever since I can remeber I have been a size 14, sometimes my clothes were baggy and sometimes a little tighter but always 14. So I went to Meadowhall on a rushed mission to find an outfit and nothing fit! I knew that over the past year I have put on some weight but all of my existing clothes had a little stretch and catered for a few pouds here and there but these non-loved, un-stretched in clothes from the store weren’t lying. I tried on the 16 (which I would sometimes buy if I wanted something baggy or needed some extra length, no one likes a camel toe in a jump suit!) and that was tight. I could feel myself getting super flustered, I mean changing rooms are always so hot anyway, whats that about!

I ended up buying a little jumpsuit that was ok and leaving to cry in the car. I couldn’t believe it, this weight had crept on and I just didnt feel like myself anymore.

Last year we had 3 rounds of fertility treatment. I had stopped playing netball because it was time consuming and to hard between work and constant trips to the hospital, not to mention I had planned in my head that the treatment would work so I wouldn’t be able to play. Through ‘taking it easy’ and the sheer dissapointment everytime it failed I’d just eat. I’d make Greig get me hashbrowns on the way home from hospital appointments, I’d have ice-cream at night because I deserved it. My stomach area was so swollen and bruised that I truley believed I deserved to eat the crap for having to go through this. I think partly as well I have been so angry at my body for letting my down and not doing it’s job that I thought it deservered to be treated badly. All my life I’ve been fit, healthy, not drunk alot, not smoked and here I was looking like I’d been beaten up down an ally! I really felt like my body was letting me down and I stopped caring.

So I’ve had a solid word with myself and worked out an eatting plan that is maintainable, I’ve started running all be it very slowly and turtle like and I’m enjoying it. I feel like I’m back on a good path but I maybe needed a little Meadowhall break down to help me see where I had gotten to. I think it’s so easy to get caught up with life and being busy and making excuses for yourself that sometimes it can all just be overwhelming. I’m not on a misson be a Victoria Secret model or a size 10 I’m just happy to tighten up a few wobbly bits and feel better in my skin.

Two weeks after the Meadowhall meltdown as it is now known we went on holiday to Ibiza! I wasn’t super exited about the thought of bikinis and a lot of skin but I thought what the hell. You only get one life, we could be dead tomorrow. We had a fabulous trip with our friends and there little boy and I didn’t even do that odd little shuffle down the sun lounger you do to try get your sun dress on without sitting up straight and causing your belly rolls to gather! You know the one!

I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and fit into my old jean and feel amazing but I have a plan and I’m taking it one day at a time. I’ve planned in regular treats, massages and manicures to keep me on track because me being in a rut is no good for me, poor Greig who has to deal with it or my company. I’m not out for perfection I’m just looking to be better than I was yesterday.

Prue x




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