Sadness leads to belly-fat-busting failure…

I have to admit folks, I fell off the belly-fat-busting wagon. I haven’t increased my weight since the last update, but neither have I lost any. I have continued to attend kickboxing classes 3/4 times a week… but as for diet, carbs have been the order of the day.

The reason (there’s always a reason, isn’t there?): our beloved dog became increasingly weak and poorly, at one point showing sudden improvement only to start dipping again. We were having to carry her upstairs, lift her onto the bed and the couch and into the car, and we knew the inevitable was coming… the thought of which sent a shock wave through my chest, taking my breath away. When it reached the point at which we were having to hover over her every time she needed to move or go out to the garden, we knew it was unfair to keep her hanging on, just because we couldn’t bear to lose her. She was 15, which the vet gently insisted, several times, was ‘old’… and the steroids were no longer having the magical effect they once did.

So, on a grey Wednesday morning, as she lay on the couch, we stroked her as the vet administered the dose that would release her from the stiffness and the reduced sight and hearing that had clearly been depressing her. I had started drinking before the vet arrived (unable to face saying goodbye sober), and continued for the rest of a day that would become nothing more than a blur. She was the friend I had walked with daily throughout the woods and along the beach, season in, season out. Last summer, I video’d one of our walks, and I am so glad that I did. Although those times have now come to an end, and a new chapter has begun, I can revisit whenever I want to.

Anyway, I was back at kickboxing two days later, and it was a welcome distraction. Sensei has announced more than once that I am the fastest in class when it comes to jab/cross, and I am quick on my feet whilst sparring, and I am definitely not the first to be heaving and gasping during fitness routines… not bad for an old bird. But it is time (again) to address this tractor tyre that has taken up residence around my middle; I will feel, and look, so much better without it. And it is time to start writing again, as this is the first thing I have penned in weeks. I buried myself in working with my customers, going to kickboxing and reading; I hit the John Grisham’s with a vengeance until I could no longer stomach another lawyer-mafia-murderer story. Time to let the light in again.

 

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