On Fitness (and vanity)

I've made it no secret I joined the gym. The more 'likes' I get for my gym gear pictures on Instagram, the more motivated I become. If you favourite my tweet about spin class, I'm literally spinning. I CAN DO THIS! PEOPLE LIKE THAT I'M GETTING FIT, YEAH! I shout to myself in the mirror (lie).

But why am I doing it? Why do I sit on a bike for 45 minutes, trying not to vomit just to feel as though I've had five rolling pins shoved up my arse? Why do I swing weights round and round, trying not to knock myself out? Because I want to be fit? No. Because I want to be healthy? NO. Because I am vain.

She's so vain, I bet she thinks this song is about her....

But you're right, I'm not getting any younger and I can't just eat a pack of biscuits anymore without gaining half a stone and three inches around my waist. I can't walk around the block three times and burn 1000 calories like I used to. I have to work hard if I want the body of my twenty year old former self back, damn hard. 

I go to the gym not because I want my bpm to be a good rate (I don't know what I'm talking about) but because I want all the twenty two year old boys in Ibiza to go PWHOAR. I want to step out of the shower and not feel my belly wobble (I wish going to the gym would tone my tits up, Jesus...). I want my body to be TIGHT.

At this point you've probably realised I'm one of the vainest people on the planet (you haven't met my little brother). Not true and a harsh judgement you've just made, shame on you. I do want to be healthy, I was only messing around before (lie) but I also want to look good. Having a baby has knocked my body confidence a bit (might have something to do with chocolate hobnobs too), but I'm determined to build it back up again for the summer. I CAN DO THIS.

She writes, eating a bagel and dreaming of all the crap she's going to scoff in New York...