Yesss! Project Connor’s back, bitches.
For weeks, if not months, I’ve been half-dieting, half exercising, half-living. As you know, I got back into my study groove last week, and I have temporarily dealt with my financial problems, by foisting myself onto a friend and into her spare room.
The scene is set for a new dawn, a new day, a new life and I’m feeling good.
I may be writing this with an overblown self-confidence. In fact, I am. It’s been brought on by the endorphins, adrenaline and testosterone of my evening in the gym.
Life’s been getting better. Not just boring stuff like study and money, but birthdays too. I got bucketloads of presents, which is by far the most important thing about ageing. Presents came from France, from Spain, from amazon, from iTunes, from ticketmaster, from HMV and from the Camden Casket Fancy Goods store. I’m spoiled.
But Project Connor was stuttering back to life very, very slowly. I was having occasional cigarettes, occasional pizzas and fairly frequent biscuits. I had packed my gym gear every day, for over a week, but never gone into the gym.
I had loitered outside the gym. I had peered through the window at the skinny people bouncing, stretching, lifting and thrusting. I had nearly gone in the door, and I had panicked. Day after day, I had gone to the gym, and run away scared (when I say “run” I clearly mean “walk”) Scared of skinny people. Scared of being ludicrously out of place. Not that I haven’t spent time in gyms before. Back when I was 6 stone lighter (but still clinically obese) I was a member of two different gyms, and at times went there five or six times a week. But when you put on weight, you put on a giant shield of fear.
Anyway, this evening, I went to the gym. Through the door. All the way in. No more “giant shield”. I did bum a cigarette before I went in to settle my nerves. I didn’t spend long there, but it felt good. I did 20 minutes on the treadmill – including six minutes of actual proper running. I also did 5 minutes on a cross trainer. I sweated buckets. And I felt great.
As I walked out of the gym, I knew Project Connor was back. I’ll be a skinny malinky before you know it. I genuinely didn’t want a cigarette as I left the gym: my lungs rejoiced. I flung my lighter in the bin. I’m a non-smoker. I didn’t go into one shop for chocolate on the way home. I got home and threw the bread from my kitchen out for the birds. Tomorrow, I’m going to be perfect. So there. I’m really excited.