Battle of the motivation.

It seems that motivation has a nemesis: laziness. You would think that wanting to feel comfortable in existing clothes is enough motivation to drag my oversized butt off the sofa and move it around a bit faster, right? You know what is easier than doing that? Buying more clothes. Ones that fit a bit better, accentuate (read hide) my curves and give me a self-esteem boost. Losing my ‘can’t blame it on the baby anymore’ weight was my prime motivation for weight loss, healthy eating and this blog. But it seems that now my arms no longer keep waving after I have stopped and I can fit into a size 12, that is no longer enough to work that bit harder on getting rid of what used to be the baby bump.

I am by no means fat but neither am I by any means pre-baby shape or in any way. I could probably run for the bus but really, I won’t. I will stand and wait 5 minutes for the next one to come along. You would think that my snazzy, new, cost-more-than-a-normal-bra, sports bra would kick me off the sofa to justify what I spent on it. It doesn’t. It sits there being an amazingly comfortable and supportive bra, one which makes my last sports bra seem like a roll of cellophane could have done the same job of squishing my tits into a chest sized sausage but it does not drag me off to the gym when I would rather be having a cup of tea.

Oh yes, I joined a gym. Even as I was doing it, I wondered if investing nigh on £50 a month would be the motivation to make me do some exercise. It was against me, I was turned away three times as I rocked up to join up and only after refusing to leave reception until I spoke to the manager and joined was I finally given a plastic green card to sit in my wallet, wedged between coffee loyalty cards. I had the motivation against all odds to join and as I was given the induction. An actual induction. One where I stood thinking, ‘I could just run. Outside. For Free.’ or ‘I could just do some sit ups. In the living room. For free’. But the fact is I don’t. I don’t go out and run in the woods or perform sit ups, push ups or leg weights against the chairs of my living room. If I did then I would probably brave going swimming some time this decade. The fact is, I don’t. Which is why I joined the gym to make me do it. It was a very good induction as well, complete with a work out plan to induce improvement rather than sitting in the cafe to avoid bedtime routine.

The last gym induction I had involved some surly man in Tottenham Fitness First waving his arms at the machines in front of us going ‘Yep, this is where they are’. I muttered something about not knowing how to use them and he showed me some unhelpful diagrams on the side of each machine. When I asked about pulling muscles, he walked off leaving me to find my own way to the women’s changing rooms via a darkened studio, the men’s and a very smelly weights room. Goodness knows what muscles I was concerned about pulling back then, maybe the muscles which took me to the pub for a pint or the ones used to change the TV channel?

So a good gym, a work out plan, losing weight, an amazing bra and getting out of bed time routine. All good motivation to getting my arse into gear and running on the spot a few times a week, right? Motivation only works if it adapts to the laziness and remains one step ahead. What is motivating me right now is so painfully simple and works so excruciatingly well that I wonder why I didn’t figure it out sooner. In fact, it is not my idea but something found on pinterest. This motivation is not only taking me to the gym three times a week but also fitting in a DVD work out in there as well.

The answer: gym tips. Every time I go to the gym or do some real exercise, I put £1 (the amount needed to use the lockers) into a pot. That’s it. After a few months, if I work hard, not only will I be able to buy some amazingly expensive dress but it might even be a size smaller than all my other dresses and I won’t feel one bit of guilt about buying it because I know I have worked hard, albeit begrudgingly, to get it.


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