It's Gym Life, But Not As We Know It.

After donating 5000 dollars to Fitness First over the last 9 months, I am finally back at the gym.
No biggy, well, one biggy, me- around my neck,chest, back and tummy which is where I prefer to store my fat.
It's day two.
Funny thing is in the course of my adult life I must have lost and gained nearly 200 pounds.
Not all in one go obviously.
THAT you would have noticed.
I was a very skinny girl for a very long time, but like a lot of woman, at some point I began to yo yo.
I could blame the babies, but there are much stronger forces at work here than them- and let's be honest, the youngest baby is now 18.
I look mad when I say "my children have ruined my figure".
Victoria Beckham has had FOUR children and you'd lose her in a toothpick factory.
Genetics play a part.
A long lost cousin once greeted me with the exclamation- " Oh and you are an 8 just like the rest of us!!"
She was referring to shape rather than size.
Big boobs, a waist, hips.
Stand a bunch of the Foley women together- the ones that share a certain Portuguese roundness- and we could all be clones.
Childhood sexual abuse plays a role too.
There's nothing like being forced to suck your stepfathers prick at the age of 6 to set you up for a lifetime of fear of your own body and a general trauma regarding male intimacy.
Too strong?
Get over it.
I'm tired of how polite we are to paedophiles.
Jimmy Savile anyone?
There is no question at all to the link between my hoovering through a fridge and a man showing interest in me.
"You think I'm sexy do you?" I'll inwardly challenge "well take THIS!!!" and then I will inhale a box of donuts covered in ice cream with a side order of chocolate fudge just to prove my point.
" How do you like me NOW!!??"
At least these days I can recognise the triggers.
When a man gives me 'that look', I try -try- to stick to over eating vegetables.
I have been known to eat 12 ears of corn in a single sitting.
You probably think I'm kidding.
I'm not kidding.
Trouble is, I love butter too.
And that's the third problem.
Why do they have to make food so damn tasty?
Salty things, and then sweet things. Savoury things and things that are crunchy.
I love them all.
I sometimes think about my cat, and how he eats things that all look the same.
Sure, tuna and whitebait is not the same thing as mackerel and gravy, but to my nose, they seem equally boring coming out of the tin.
If food was boring, I would eat it less.
Anyway, I'm back at the gym.
When I first joined a while back I went a LOT and lost 40 pounds.
The last 9 months I have worked hard at gaining it back.
A couple of years before then I used to learn boxing and a tiny bit of MMA with the lovely Daniel.
I loved punching things.
You don't have to be a genius to work out whom I dedicated my fiercest right hooks to.
And this leads me to my point.
As I sat today in the sauna after a particularly strenuous workout I recognised, not for the first time, that the reason I NEED to exercise has little to do with weight.
It's about me.
It's about doing something FOR ME.
I was raised by a hardcore narcissist.
One that didn't really cope or make good choices.
Too strong ?
Oh well.
Let someone else sugar coat the bitter pills, I've given that task up for Lent...forever.
So I learned early to have close relationships with people who were great at taking but weren't all that great at giving back.
It wasn't until I was in my late 30's that that came to a halt.
Fairly dramatically, it must be said, but needs must.
It had taken me the better part of 4 decades to learn the words 'I want', and once I had learned them, there was no turning back.
And I suspect, and I really mean this, that when I exercise, I actually physically remove the toxins of anger and frustration and sadness that are stored inside my fat cells.
Is that bizarre?
I know enough about body chemistry to understand cortisol and stress and the link to obesity.
I know about endorphins.
But when I actually feel the pain I carry inside release from my body as I exercise, well....I am not entirely sure how to explain it.
And yet, time and time again I have put off making myself well.
I am 50 pounds fatter than I should be, and at least 20 of that is just pent up fucked-off-ness. 
And it's time to let that go.
For good.
I am a lucky person.
My life is now filled with caring, compassionate people who take the time to tell me I am worthy.
I have learned to love myself.
It has been an uphill and high calorific battle, but it is one that I hope to win.
Step by sweaty step.