I’m sure you are all waiting, breath held in anticipation, to hear how much weight I have lost since I declared I was going to lose five kilograms by the end of June. First of all, I would like to say this: I am not good at exercising. And by ‘not good’, I do  of course mean, ‘I find it impossible to motivate myself to exercise’.

That being said, it should come as no surprise to learn that I have lost a total of zero killograms. That’s right, ZERO KILLograms. You know why they’re KILLograms? Because trying to lose them is killing me. How do people get excited about this stuff, this getting sweaty and red-faced and out of breath? By running, I mean.

There are other ways to get sweaty which are definitely more fun. (Hi, Mum!)

So. On the one hand, we have the not-losing-weight thing, which is less of a thing, and more of a problem. On the other hand, I managed to maintain my weight for an entire month, which means I didn’t actually gain weight. This is the part where I get worked up and vow to exercise more, and eat better, and stop drinking Coke.

Honestly, though… am I going to do it? No. Those of you who were thinking ‘Yes, maybe, you could’? No, just… no. My best chance of exercising it more is by incorporating it into my daily routine, and although I’ll be trying to do that, I’m not actively going to ‘exercise’. I hate it; the whole idea, and the act itself.

What I am going to do, is continue walking to the station every morning – when I go back to class – instead of taking the bus. I’m going to walk a little quicker, and try to get my walking pace back to where it was before I got a boyfriend and discovered walking slowly, hand in hand, while smelling flowers and la-dee-dah.

And, I’m going to eat whatever I want. Because dieting sucks. Also because I have no willpower, and I’ve realised that I should be working around my lifestyle, not trying to conform to an ‘ideal’ lifestyle that someone else defines. Which is my way of saying I have no willpower, and I’m too lazy and broke to change my diet.

Three cheers for being curvy!

So, I wore a top the other day. A pretty, floaty purple top that tied at the waist and covered my (slightly) flabby upper arms. I wore it with dark jeans and high heels, and I looked in the mirror and thought, “This is good.” Then I flounced out the door with my jewellery and my perfume and my makeup, feeling great.

Only, here’s the problem. From the front, the top looks fantastic. From any other angle? I look fat. Or, as my mother so kindly put it, chunky. That’s right people; I am chunky, just like playdough and those really huge rings I modelled in my bedroom mirror when I was fifteen. Wonderful, isn’t it?

I knew purple wasn’t my colour.

In other news, I weighed myself today. Since they are a new set of scales, I’m not going to jump to any conclusions, but they ARE digital, and, well.. I weighed in at 72.7kg. If the scales are accurate, that means I’ve lost 2.3kg since I last weighed myself, and vowed to exercise. The only thing I’ve done so far is drink water. Heh.

I haven’t bought takeaway as often either, though. That could be helping, I suppose. What I really need to do is start walking/running every second day, like I promised myself I would. Or exercise at all, really. The water is a step in the right direction, though; let’s hope that the 2.3kg was legitimate weight gain.

Otherwise I may have to resort to getting serious about this ‘weight loss thing’.

I know the title of this post is fairly simple, and contains a fact that most people - women, especially - have known for centuries, but as I admitted earlier? I have never had to do it before, not actively. I mean sure, I’ve lost weight, and gained it. Who hasn’t? I’ve never dieted though, or ‘exercised’ regularly.

When I was younger, I rode horses twice a day and lived on a property that spanned hundreds of acres. We had farm animals, and things always needed to be done; any puppy fat that I might have gained when I moved into my thirteenth year - and became a woman; remind me to tell you all about that -  never had a chance.

Gone are the taut, trim and terrific days of my youth. Long gone.

So, I’ve been trying out this weight loss thing. And let me tell you, as of right now? Not working. Not even a little bit. Well, I mean, the exercise specifically. I might have lost weight, I don’t know. But the exercise just IS NOT happening. It’s difficult to motivate myself to go out and get all hot and sweaty for no good reason.

No reason other than health, that is, and really? Totally not important.

Moving along. You may have picked up on the fact that I don’t know if I’ve lost weight or not. That would be because I don’t actually own a set of scales. I KNOW. I am totally kicking ass at this weight loss thing, really. All I need to do now is actually exercise, and maybe - just maybe - stop inhaling boxes of Maltesers.

This morning, I was getting ready to have a shower. As most women know, this consists of approximately 10 minutes (depending on the mirror, how long you have, and the time of month) of inspecting your naked body in the mirror, contorting yourself this way and that, desperately searching for your ‘good side’.

Lately, I’m having a lot of trouble distinguishing it through all the FAT.

Currently, I stand at about 170cm (5 feet, 5 inches) and weigh 75kg (165 pounds). My BMI is 26, meaning that according to my BMI, I am ‘a little overweight’. Some of you may be reading this, thinking that I have nothing to worry about. I assure you, despite the fact that I am not obese, I have plenty to be concerned about.

I have NEVER been ‘the fat girl’. Never. I had pointy elbows, a flat chest, tiny wrists and ankles. I was the skinny girl, accused of anorexia constantly throughout the years, even though I didn’t suffer from an eating disorder of any kind. Over time I developed an hourglass figure - and a really nice ass - but I was still very thin.

Now, I buy clothes to hide my stomach, and I have stretch marks along my sides. A lot of my loose, baggy clothing doesn’t fit me anymore, and I’m buying size 14 jeans these days, if you didn’t hear. I’m soft, doughy even, in places where I used to have trouble finding excess skin to pinch. I have chafing between my thighs.

I also have beautiful A-cup breasts and if I lean forward and press my arms together, hey presto! CLEAVAGE! Amusing, fun to play with, and a novelty for someone who used to wear training bras exclusively, but they’re not worth the weight gain in other areas, specifically the stomach, thighs and ass.

So, how did I end up here? Well, honestly, it’s my own fault. I mean, there are factors that contributed, sure. Working at the video store, with ready access to soft drink and junk food didn’t help. Walking everywhere with Gentil didn’t help: I’m sorry, hun, but you’re a slowpoke! Dropping out of TAFE didn’t help either.

Basically, I began eating more, walking slower and exercising less all at once. My weight began to climb. At first, I was all like, ‘Boobies!’ I swore they were getting bigger, and I was right; a whole cup size, biznitches! Then my jeans started to get tighter. I got a little bit of a belly. My Mum picked on me about getting chubby.

Last Christmas, my uncle noticed and made a comment that really stung. It stuck with me, not so much the words, but the tone in which they were said. I started to look in the mirror a little more closely. Prior to then, I hadn’t worried, because if anything I had been too skinny; a little weight would have been a good thing.

I looked into the mirror, and I dissected my body piece by piece, and I thought, ‘I’m a little chubby, but certainly not in a bad way.’ And then I got on with things, vowing to walk more, faster, further than I had been. But of course, I didn’t. I wasn’t motivated to exercise, and I began feeling unhappy with myself, and my body.

So. I’m not a particularly active person, but I do enjoy running a fair bit. I’m going to try and get 20 - 30 minutes of exercise (running and walking) every second day, for the next month. I’m also re-structuring my diet, re-introducing water to my system and banning myself from convenience stores and Darrell Lea.

The goal is to lose five kilograms by the end of June. Since I’ve never actively tried to lose weight before, I figured I should start small. And, to follow along with the OCD theme I established yesterday, the odd days are going to be the days that I exercise. How very fitting, considering that me exercising is rather odd.

Wish me luck; I’m going to need it.