Rolling Hills vs Fat Rolls

I received an email this week from a reader who wanted to know if i was 100% body confident and if i had my off days. It easy to assume that because I coach individuals with their issues that I don't have any of my own and that couldn't be further from the truth.

I don’t want any of you though to think that I am completely perfect, I work very hard every day to be the best version of me into accept who I am. Although it is fair to say that I do not connect my weight or size with my self-esteem, there are occasionally situations that come up that give me a reality check.

Some would say that I live my life in complete denial of my size or weight. Others would say that I am one of the lucky ones that I get to walk around without the burden and guilt of being fat. I think the reality is that I have been brought up with a very strong sense of who I am and I have been in a very supportive family environment which allows me to believe that I can achieve anything. I really honestly believe that anybody can be whatever and whoever they want to be if they put their mind to it, and put in the work. There are certain things however, in the real world that put some restrictions on me because of my size. I call these triggers my ‘moments’ whether it is denial or just a simple attitude adjustment I am grateful that my body image limitations are simply moments, because for many they are constant.

One of the goals in writing this blog was to share the experiences that I have had myself and others have had around me so that maybe one of you may start to have moments of self doubt instead of the constant negative self chat and self loathing.

In my early 20s I started to date a science teacher He was good fun intelligent and a little older than me. He was a pretty positive influence in my life actually, and even to this day we remain extremely close friends. Andy was more outdoorsy then the other guys that he dated before and although he wasn’t a crazy fitness addict he did do a lot more walking than I was used to. It was suggested that we should spend a weekend out of the city in the Lake District a beautiful picturesque county of rolling hills and quiet countryside in England. We decided that we would rent an old stone cottage in a remote part of the Lake District and stay there for a few days with a group of friends.

I had built up an idyllic picture of what we were going to do that weekend we would have good friends good company good wine, good food, very thick 100yr old stone walls and beautiful burning log fires. In my head the plans this weekend looked like something out of a Country Living Magazine. In reality though that wasn’t really a thing. (what i imagine and what happens in real life is a disappointment for me every day! I have a mantra now ' Not everything is the Academy Awards' in the hope that I can manage my own extra a.f expectations through life in general!)

The weather that weekend was exceptionally bad. Rainy bleak and cold, as is always the way in England when you have a plan to do something. This three-bedroom cottage did look picture perfect form the outside. It was sweet and quaint but of course when it’s a rented building and it had seen an awful lot of traffic through it. There was a strong smell of ramblers, wet dogs, mud and waterproof clothing. There was a small 20 inch TV hooked up to a DVD player. Thoughtfully the owners had provided us with some 1980s movies and a DVD of Michael Flatley’s River dance. My saving grace (note the sarcasm) was that I was with a group of teachers. People like me don’t leave home without straighteners and hair serum. People like Andy and his teacher friends don’t go anywhere without a pack of cards a board game, a flash light and a ham and mustard sandwich.

Thankfully for the first evening the weather was my savior, we built a fire, unpacked our belongings, had long warm baths and put on fluffy pajamas. We ate fine cheese, antipasti and artisan bread all from a very special deli in the city. We consumed several very nice bottles of red wine, and chatted until the early hours.

After 1/3 of the sleep I thought I should have on a relaxing break away, I woke up to the rumble of old pipes, people talking and kettles on the stove whistling. There was barely enough light in the room to see what we’re doing, so I went over to open the curtains which to my dismay were already open. Apparently there is a time in the morning where you can wake up and it’s still dark, who knew?

I am not a morning person so I gravitated towards the whistling kettle in order to find myself a cup of coffee, some of our friends were up and dressed and starting to fill backpacks with snacks and drinks. Apparently at some point the night before everybody had agreed to hike to one of the highest points in the incredibly mountainous Lake District. Apparently I missed that part in this conversation, because I was on a hell bent mission, intent on finding the savory with cheese chutney I knew we had bought in the food hall of a very exclusive department store that I have been looking forward to all afternoon (and spent almost a weeks wages on!)

Not going, was not an option we were ALL going, so I jumped in the shower got as appropriately dressed as a could and set about following everyone up a dirt track. The those of you that are not familiar with the Lake District Every thing Is either in, on, up or over a fucking hill, and steep ones at that.

Luckily I had learned after being around these people on several occasions heels are not an appropriate form of footwear when socializing with academic types. Not being the most sporty person however I have never owned a pair of trainers/sneakers, I have never had the need or desire to wear them. I did at this point in my life own a pair of pink blinged out 'Diesel Converse' so they were my go to hiking boot! They were incredibly cute but not particularly comfortable. In fact I think I have owned heels that one more comfortable,but they were in the sale and at those prices, I could deal with the fact they were a size to small!

We must have walked no more than a couple of hundred yards up this mammoth hill before I stepped in a swamp of mud, where my shoe left my foot, leaving me stranded on one leg fighting for my balance and hopping around with flailing limbs and one stripy sock, borrowed from one of the girls. Andy saved me after much giggling and sniggers from the rest of the group. As I put my foot back into the shoe I noticed that it was wet. Trying to remain cool and save face I continued to catch up with the rest of the group. Every second step I took the shoe made squelching noise Which is we got further up the hill turned into a High-pitched squeak. It was a cold day and on the advice of the others I had a lots of layers on. Never has the phrase more meat more heat been so appropriate! You don't needs as many layers as the others when you have a strong insulation layer of fat in place!

I started to get a bit of a sweat on, and that prickly itchy skin feeling you get when you have a heavy coat on in a shopping mall began to take over most of my back and upper arms.

The first layer got tided around my waist, followed by my little hat that came off and went inside my pocket. The wind was so cold It made the end of my nose numb and my cheeks burn, but every muscle in my body was a raging inferno on the inside. A little bit of me was praying silently that this group was going to stop for respite halfway up the hill. The group chatted and made conversation. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.

They talked about the view and admired the scenery, I was having a completely different conversation my head. "Would it be easier for me to walk if I didn’t have all these layers on?" Every jumper jacket felt like a lead weight around my neck, My right foot was wet from the muddy puddle, But "Why was it that my left foot also felt wet?" "How long had we been walking for, Where were we walking to, And why did these people think it was fun?" With every step I took the rest of the group must have taken five or six and it didn’t take long to me to fall significantly behind.

Andy turned around to check on me and I opened my mouth to say something. The cold air hit the back of my throat like a thousand needles, my breathing hurt, and I panted heavily, hoping he could see that in my eyes, although I couldn't talk, I wanted to turn back. The rest of the group could obviously see that I was struggling. They took a short break just long enough me to catch up with them before they started walking again, I remember thinking well that’s okay for you. You just had a break, I have to continue now? I was the one that needed the break!!

I didn’t want the rest of the group to feel like I was spoiling their day or that I was holding them back, They obviously enjoyed this torture. The rest of them seemed so cool and collected, taking a polite brisk stroll. I felt so incredibly self conscious of my weight and level of fitness. As we continue to walk I tried to control my breathing, I mean stop myself from sounding like an elderly pug with bronchitis. My control technique was not best, it just involved me holding my breath until the lung burn got so bad that I had to exhale, I pursed my lips so that the noise of my gasps were a little more muted! As we continued to walk I tried my best to spark a little conversation as a distraction technique, whilst they were talking they may not be able to hear my puffing, panting and wheezing for air. “So where are we walking to?” Andy replied "Up to the to peak!" I tried to smile, it wasn’t working out for me, the saliva in my mouth was so thick that I felt like I was chewing curd.! “We will have a little lunch and a pint of beer and then head back!” Finally there was light at the end of the tunnel! All I had to do was focus on my reward! A sit down in a comfy chair, a little something to eat and a big glass of white wine in front of a warm fireplace! It was a goal to work to and it didn’t seem as pointless now! There was also bound to be a pay phone at the pub, that I could call a cab from back to the cottage! My spirits were somewhat lifted as we continued to climb and climb. As we reached the top of the hill, Andy was in full cheer leading mode “Its not far now Sal, we are almost there’.

Finally we began approach what appeared to be the summit. I looked around expecting to see a beautiful thick stone pub, with a bellowing chimney. There was absolutely nothing. Just a to perch on and a huge 360° view of the village below and an extremely big cloudy sky. In hindsight that view was very beautiful all of my friends started rummaging in their backpacks to find cameras to take photographs of the rolling hills, large lakes, and frost nipped villages below. I looked back down at the trail we had followed for what seemed an eternity, in hope that I would see at what milestone I had lost my soul! Instead I could see our little cottage sat at the base of this hill nestled in a beautiful little muse of houses. Its chimney still smoking from our morning fire! No soul to be found!

One of our fittest and more athletic friends Tony said "See wasn’t that worth the walk Sally? it’s just beautiful up here look at it all!" I nodded and smiled but really in my head I was thinking that I could have seen this view from down there and I could be walking around inside this view, instead of giving myself a coronary to look at it from a distance.

I stood really close to Andy and whispered under my breath where is the fucking pub? He smiled, He held out his arm and pointed. My line of sight followed his finger to the bottom of the mountain! Where he pointed to a small stone house Only a few doors down from our rental cottage!

With gritted teeth I asked him if he was fucking kidding me but I knew in my heart He was absolutely serious. It was at that precise moment that I made a deal with myself. I was never going to do anything that I didn’t want to do or feel peer pressured into doing something. In the future if we were to come on one of these beautiful vacation getaways, I would do things that make me feel like I was on vacation. If that meant a morning of reading the latest copy of Vogue in the pub whilst drinking coffee awaiting them to come back off their ridiculously long hike and that’s why would do. My idea of relaxation and rewarding vacation is not to climb hills until I feel I want to die.

Why should I have felt pressured to do something I didn’t want to do? Something that I was not comfortable with and something that was out of my wheelhouse, Just so that I would not be judged from my weight and for my fitness level? Why can I not have been so secure in myself, That I could stand up for what I wanted to do on my vacation? In the battle of 'Rolling Hills vs Fat Rolls' Rolling hills kicked my ass! I just had to realize that if i was happy with me and my body, I didn't have to prove anything to anyone else.