Honest fitness by ellenruth

It is coming up to 3 and a half months since I decided to knuckle down and sort my health out. Logic and reason can see the numbers on the scale and the tape measure go down, but why is it that I mentally struggle to accept that I have made any progress at all? Don’t get me wrong I love people mentioning that I’ve lost weight and look healthier, but as much as I can politely accept a compliment, there is always that little voice. The voice of self-doubt creeps in. As what I can see in the mirror doesn’t reflect the numbers or the comments. My own doubt, I believe, comes from previous ‘failure’ and ‘delusions of progress’ – since I realised I had put on weight I have been killing myself in the gym for the last two years. Pushing harder and harder, believing I was making progress…but honestly, I wasn’t. I was still eating ridiculous amounts of crap, just doing heavy weights (with awful form so constantly pulling my back out) and couldn’t see myself getting bigger. So now, while ...

It’s always a struggle writing something from scratch, but I to start a blog, I should start with my fitness and health story so far 😊 From the age of 16 to 21 my body didn’t change much, even through the boozey, sugar-filled world of university, I stayed at a constant eight and a half stone – which is around a UK size 6-8 – and as I am quite a little person (5ft 2), I didn’t think too much would ever change. This was standard for me, I was happy wearing little tight dresses and partying the night away. After uni, I started work, up at 7am every morning (kill me), and at the same time, went on to the contraceptive injection. I guess it wasn’t the one for me, as I started CRAVING food. I was snacking on chocolate and sweet treats constantly, but thought nothing of it, as my body had never changed before… But then it did. In six months I gain two stone and over the next year my self-confidence took an absolute nose dive. I was stuck in the circle of being tired/upset, comfo...