The Birth of Venus

I was at the gym last night for the first time in, like, a week and I was amazed at how unfit I was. Then I stopped myself, jumped off the treadmill, put it on pause, threw my hands in the air and screamed – “WHAT HAVE I BECOME??” Actually I just paused, had a sip of my water and my eyebrows moved into their slightly surprised position. I had become one of those horrible lycra wearing gym people, who use words like 'rep' and 'set' and 'rpm'

I’ve never been into fitness. At school I used every excuse possible to get out of sport. Forget my uniform, forget my shoes, forget one shoe, forget to put the laces in my shoes. Later on I milked the women’s issues thing – my sport teachers would be surprised that I still have a uterus considering the amount of problems that it apparently gave me.

I hated sport, I wasn’t good at sport, people giggled and snickered when I ran.

Mine was always a body that was built for lying horizontal being fanned and fed grapes by giant, good looking men wearing loin cloths, a little bit Botticelli, I was pretty happy with it, it never did me any wrong.

It was the whole wedding thing that made me decide to get fit and skinny. The dress, the photos, the fact that I was getting a new name and becoming a whole new person – may as well be a shit hot one.

I started mission:shithot by going to Jacob’s Ladder after work and on that very first day I didn’t tell anyone I was going. If it ended in failure I made sure it was going to be a private one.

That first morning I put my sports shoes in my car and some "workout clothes" I bought a few years back that had since turned into "hanging out on the couch clothes" To put this in perspective, the sports shoes I put in my car were the same ones my mum bought for me back at school ten years ago and they were still in "as new" condition.

So I got there after work, parked the car in the carpark, shoved my keys in my bra and got going. As I was walking up the hill to the stairs I saw a group of guys in front of me powering down to the bottom step and turning around without even hesitating and going right on back up - chatting the whole time. I mounted the first step and got into rhythm about 5 steps behind the group of guys - this isn't that hard.

Thirty seconds later there is sweat on my brow and im huffing and puffing, the rhythm was gone and the guys had probably already reached the top and were on their way back down.

I did make it to the top without stopping. I had a drink from the fountain and went right back down the stairs.

As I was heading towards the bottom step I had every intention of turning around and going back up but my body revolted and a trotted ungainly towards the car. As I reached the car I had a biggest loser moment and had a little throw up. I was so proud - imagining Jillian patting me on the back - "thats enough pig, thats enough."

I went back the next day. But not the day after that because I could no longer walk without making loud whinging noises and I was absolutely positive my ass was going to fall off – and not in the good way.

I did ‘the ladder’ for about four months before joining a gym, there were many ass falling off, biggest loser spew moments. By my wedding day (last week:)) I could run 5km without stopping and had lost 12 kilos and almost two dress sizes. Feels pretty good. Can’t believe I’m one of those gym people. Lycra and all. Pump it.