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.