It’s time to come clean.

I suck at being healthy.

I have a wardrobe full of gym gear most girls would kill for. I own enough kitchen gadgets to run a clean eating cafe out of my own front room. My garage is not to house my other half’s car; oh no. It is a gym, complete with a concept 2 rowing machine and a kick-ass treadmill.

But do you know what? today I had a shit day at work. I have a half marathon on Sunday and tonight I ditched my hill sprints for a bottle of Baileys and a bag of salt and pepper cashews.

I do not feel better for this. I feel full of guilt and have already resolved to get up at 6am to run, but if I think logically I know damn well I will have a mild hangover and a belly full of sugared cream (oh dear lord what have I done?!!).

I have not blogged on a regular basis for one reason and one reason only; I feel like a huge fraud. I am a qualified PT and I love fitness; nothing beats the rush of lifting more weight, or beating a previous time. I love cooking healthy food and I care about what I put into my body. I am a mum now and I need to be around as long as I can to cause my son no end of grief. The problem is, I only care half the time. The other half, life just smacks me back down again. I have struggled against self-harming as a teenager, depression and anxiety, PTSD after rape and an eating disorder. The fact that I am as functional as I am is a huge achievement, but I will never see it that way.

This post is rather self-indulgent, but for the first time I am not going to apologise. I am not going to typeit all out only to delete it again, and not write anything at all for another month.

Yeah, life sucks sometimes. But sod it. I didn’t decide to train as a personal trainer to work with meatheads; I trained to work with people who are where I was 8 years ago. I was obese, completely clueless and bloody miserable. So what the hell am I so afraid of? Why am I so scared of others judging me? Why is anyone?! (If anyone actually has the answer to this, don/t share it with me. Make your millions from it, as you truly deserve to do).

So from now on I promise this; no more bullshit. I will post pics of my gluten free, no fat, no sugar post-gym breakfast on insta, but I will also post photos of the dirty chinese and JD and coke that happens after a crappy day at work and my son projectile vomiting all over the car.

My new goal is to inspire AND console. No-one is perfect. I’ll bet less than 1% of people that actually try, with UNWAVERING WILLPOWER, will ever look that good in a bikini.

Life is too short.

Here’s to honesty!



So it would appear I am pretty bad at this…

It has been over 1 month since my last post. I am not going to lie; I have been putting it off. I have fallen off the wagon in a spectacular way.

I had a wonderful trip to Florence mid September with my other half. For the first time in years I ate and drank whatever I desired without feeling any guilt. I mean, how often do you get to eat Spaghetti Carbonara the traditional way? (Without cream, for the non-purist!) I may have also consumed my bodyweight in Gelato…. but I did not regret a second. I have no idea if I will ever make it to Italy again and I wanted to make the most of every minute.

The minute I stepped off the plane in the UK, everything was back to normal. I ducked and dived my way through the crowds to grab myself a skinny cappuccino at Costa and instinctively reached into my bag for my sugar free toffee flavour drops (which of course I took on holiday, but never used once). I was consumed with thoughts of what we were going to have for dinner when we got home, knowing that there wouldn’t be any fresh fruit or veg in the house. My other half insisted on ordering a pizza as a well known brand had opened up just down the road. I went along with it and ordered, but even before it had arrived good old Mr. Guilt had turned up to give me a punch in the gut. I felt so bad that by the time the food had arrived, I was so convinced I was a massive failure that I ate the whole large pizza¬†even though I was full by the third slice.

It wasn’t until I started typing this evening that I realised where this post was supposed to go. I have been really struggling to get back into a routine since I returned from Italy and I think originally I thought it was because I had had a few days off from exercising and had managed to misplace my willpower. I was miserable, unmotivated and back to bingeing every few days.

Now I think I have had a mini epiphany. During my time in Florence, I didn’t log my food. Not one calorie was accounted for. BUT, I did not snack. I spent my days walking around, admiring the beauty of a city who’s history you could spend a lifetime dedicated to investigating and still not scratch the surface. I occupied myself with staring at Michelangelo’s David and learning about the Medici family. I ate 3 solid meals a day, including Pasta with Truffle oil, Tiramisu and copious amounts of wine and I did not put on a pound. Because, for the first time in as long as I can remember, food did not dominate my thoughts. By not obsessing over it, I found myself more capable of going a healthy amount of time without it I wasn’t scared of being hungry, because I simply did not care.

How much of my life have I wasted agonising over my macro intake? How many hours have I spent on a treadmill punishing myself for yesterday’s celebratory meal for a family member’s birthday?

Where along the way did I lose sight of what actually matters?!

You can be healthy without being obsessive. You can achieve your goals without compulsively measuring every gram of food. You can cut yourself some slack.

I just haven’t quite accepted that yet.