So the deed is done.

Several months ago, I started on a weight loss plan of hitting 65kg. Only to be told by my doctor that I should be aiming for 55kg instead. Regardless of my disbelief, the nutritionist and gym trainers have all backed up the doctor. Pfft. So here goes, aiming for 60kg then maybe 55. (Meanwhile I’ve been pathetically hovering around 67kg for the last 3 months due to my lack of discipline in following an exercise regime…)

Then yet again on the other hand, I have folks telling me that 55kg is going to make me look anorexic. But honestly I don’t think they realise that the idea of being a bag of skin and bones is actually sounds quite appealing, just because I’ve never been there before! You know what they say, the grass is always greener on the other side…

Hubs, on the other hand, has even given the green light and offered financial assistance for me to get a boob job (if necessary). He says it’s high time I ditched the insecurities I picked up after having Kee. And if losing weight is going to make these stretchmarks worse, then we’ll go for laser treatments, micro-dermabrasion or whatever that will help reduce them. Sometimes he can be such a darling, but sometimes such an ass.

So with his confirmation and support, I am surrendering my insecurites (and moolah) with a personal trainer.

I like starting things right, because when I don’t, I usually just fail and fall flat on my face. My diet is a fantastic example, considering I haven’t counted my calories for over 2 months and have not gained a single ounce. Having a personal trainer is going to make sure I work out correctly for my needs and not end up with unwanted muscle bulges or still sporting flabbiness after losing 10kg.

I’ll be having my first session with the trainer this evening, and I am feeling somewhat jittery about it. It’s kinda hard not to when your trainer tells you: “Be prepared. It is going to be intense.”

Shit. I just hope I can still make my way home after that.



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