Losing It

My mad, crazy journey to health and beyond

Life is hard, and so am I

I was having a conversation with a friend recently, and she was bemoaning the fact that she couldn’t seem to stick to her wellness plan. And then she said something that almost made me spit my virgin mojito through my nostrils. “Oh but you wouldn’t understand, it’s so easy for you.”


And some more for good measure.


So after I recovered from my hysteria-induced aneurysm and wiped my nose, I thought it would be helpful for me to compile a little list. Behold said list:


  1. I was drinking a fucking virgin mojito when I decided to compile the list. Virgin. Mojito. Which is bartender for sad. Do you know how the waiters look at you when you order a virgin cocktail? I think I’ve finally managed to put my finger on it. It’s a blend of disbelief, shock and pity, with a dash of contempt thrown in for good measure. And it is NOT fun. It makes me want to jump up and shout, “Nooo, I’m not a boring person – I can drink! I can drink like a motherfucker! In fact there is so much of my name all over these walls, I’m surprised there’s any space left for pictures!”. But I don’t. Instead I order my little mocktail, and go quietly on my way.
Drink all the drinks!

I miss you guys.

I haven’t told my friends this, but often when I’m out with them for drinks, at some point in the conversation I stop listening, and imagine them as a drink. Matthew, you’re a pint of beer. Eva, you’re a glass of dry white. Tee, you’re a shot of tequila. And then I wonder if I’ll have time to drink said drink in the time it takes you to go to the bathroom. It hasn’t happened yet, but there have been a few close calls. I may not post much about it anymore (mostly because my friends told me I was starting to sound like a deranged alcoholic) but staying away from alcohol is HARD. And if you think it’s easy for me in any way, then I think you may be the drunk one.

  1. Do you know what time I get up in the morning? 5am. Every morning. Do you think I like getting up at 5am every morning? No, no I do not. I also want to lie in bed, lolling around like jelly that’s fallen out of its bowl. But instead I hoist my sizable rump out of bed when that damn Walk In The Forest starts playing my tune, and I blearily go and make myself coffee in preparation for lifting a bunch of heavy shit. And if it’s not a training morning, then I start working instead. Because I am a freelancer, and that’s what we do. So I get up at 5am every morning, and start my day. But don’t for a second think that I jump out of bed full of the wonders of spring. More like the burning resentment of a thousand hellfires.

Sleep mask

  1. I haven’t eaten a pizza in five months. FIVE MONTHS. I miss pizza. I also miss Steers burgers and Colonel burgers and Spur burgers and slap chips and ice cream and Bubbly and the chicken vindaloo and fresh cream cakes from the Indian takeaway round the corner. I miss sitting in my pajamas all day watching stuff on my laptop and stuffing my face with crap. I know I’m not supposed to say that – that I’m supposed to be all, “ooh now that I’m losing weight I CAN’T STAND junk food! I just want to fill my body with HEALTHY food and do HEALTHY things and think HEALTHY thoughts. And yes, that’s true. But I also want to make sweet mouth love to a large Tikka chicken pizza from Debonairs, wash it down with a litre of Coke and then rip into a large slab of Bubbly for dessert. Sue me.
So much of longing.

So much of longing.

  1. I get tired. Believe it or not, yes, I get tired. I get tired of always having to watch what I put in my mouth, of monitoring my sleep, of drinking enough water, of doing enough kettlebell swings, of measuring the amount of cream I put in my coffee, of leaving nights out with my friends, of ordering mojitos minus the rum, and of watching my friends have lazy wine-soaked lunches or tequila-fuelled Friday nights. I get tired of it, and honestly sometimes that towel comes very close to being thrown in. Perhaps I should talk about that more, because I’m sure a lot of people feel the same, but honestly I’m too tired to talk about it as well.
  1. And finally, it’s hard because sometimes you do everything right, all day and all night long, and then this shit happens.


That’s a GAIN of 900 grams in a week. For no reason. Absolutely no reason whatsoever. You think it’s easy to just skip off gaily and carry on after seeing that? Staying the same is one thing. Gaining after a huge binge is one thing. But gaining after following the rules is like being given a gigantic finger by the universe. Yes, you worked hard, but so what. Sucks to be you!

So yes, when people say or think, “ooh, it’s so easy for her”, it makes me want to do an impression of a hyena who’s just heard a good knock-knock joke. Because it isn’t easy at all. There are a lot of things I often don’t want to do, feel resentment about doing, and just couldn’t be bothered to do. But you know what, I do them anyway.

Because I’m committed. And that means staying committed to your plan, whether you feel like sticking to it or not.

Because I’ve made a choice. I’ve chosen to do this, and I keep making that same choice over and over again. I often hear people say “oh, I couldn’t give up alcohol like you”, or “I couldn’t stick to an eating plan like you”. Um, yes you can. The difference between you and me is that I’m choosing to do it, and you’re not. Simple.

Because even though I’m starting to like the person on the outside, I’m starting to love the person on the inside. And that’s something that’s new, and special, and never would have happened if I hadn’t chosen this path. They call it a journey for a reason, and while it’s sometimes tiring, it’s always worth it.

And because I’m happy. Truly, genuinely happy. I have a wonderful family, amazing friends, a job where I get to call the shots, a new healthy lease on life, new hobbies, passions and pursuits, and a new appreciation for all my many blessings.

So even though it’s hard, I’m going to keep on ordering virgin mojitos, waking up at 5am, staying away from pizza, and pressing on no matter how tired I get. Because while it may be hard to do all of this, it’s harder to stay fat, unhealthy and hating yourself. And as for the scale? It can go eat a dick.


99 luftballoons


What a week it’s been! A week of celebrations, high fives, mocktails, awesomeness, and an unending wave of love and support. I’ve been plodding along this journey for so long that I didn’t realise I’d picked up a bit of an entourage along the way – a group of friends who are so kickass it hurts, Facebook buddies who always have a kind word to say, women who are just as enthusiastic as me about making healthy choices, and even people I don’t really know that well, who are kind and supportive despite, in some cases, being thousands of miles away.

To all of you, I say THANK YOU! You rock the house, and you’ve helped make this week a truly phenomenal one.

While the scale and I have been playing our usual game of ‘fuck you’, ‘no, fuck YOU’ over the past few weeks, I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to do to mark the eventual 99.9 occasion. I’ve gone under 100 a few times before (I think three, to be exact) and each time, while I have felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, I haven’t done anything to celebrate the milestone. Mostly because I didn’t want to admit that I weighed 99.freaking 9 kgs. It’s under 100, but it’s sure as shit no Victoria’s Secret model.

But now, I could honestly give a flying fuck what anyone thinks. It’s my goal, and I’m damn proud of it. So with that in mind, I set about organising a week’s worth of celebrations, not just with the aim of acknowledging my achievement, but recognising the people who’ve helped me along the way, thanking them for their support, high fiving with them, and making this milestone one to well and truly remember!

So if you missed it, this is what I’ve been up to since we last spoke:

Mocktails in the Northern suburbs


(Fake) champagne and oysters in Mouille Point


An exotic dinner date in town


99ing the place UP in Century City




Having fun with fake beer and real friends in Kenilworth



And then, seeing this on the scale today (while still rocking my highly fabulous luxury pedicure from Rouge Day Spa):


Just goes to show that even if you go mocktail crazy, as long as you eat right, train hard and stay focused, you’ll still go right on achieving your goals!

What an amazing end to a fabulous week, and what a way to introduce myself to the 90s! That’s right all you numbers all the way down to 90 – I’m here, and I’m going to crush every last one of you. Be afraid. Be very afraid. MWAAAHAAAHAAAA!!!!!