A Bumpy Ride

Oh mi god...

I can't believe what happened tonight...

After what was one of the most intense PT sessions of all time Terri and I left and were heading back to her place. We stopped at a red light at one of the major intersections in town and after about 30 seconds my tired leg slipped from the brake and onto the accellerator and yep that's right I completely rear ended her :(

I was sooooo mortified.... we'd been at a standstill and then all of a sudden with a big surge my car bounced forward and hit hers for no apparent reason. The other cars around stared in astonishment as they witnessed what looked like some kind of life size game of dodgem cars.

Terri just continued on once the light was green so I followed her and burst into exhausted tears. When we got back to hers I couldn't believe there was no damage to our little bombs, NOT EVEN A SCRATCH! and all she could do is laugh hysterically at how impatient I had been and what the other cas around us must have thought.

She assures me that I too will laugh at this one day but for now I'm just incredibly embarrassed. One things for sure Sophie definitely can't claim we didn't put in! I really 'crashed' afterwards tonight!

Training Wheels.

When Sophie dragged out an 80kg truck tyre I was about ready to turn around and go home. What is this girl thinking? Clearly I should have filled in the disability section of her liability form with “suffers from severe case of the unco’s”. As predicted it turns out that my ability to run while pushing an 80kg tyre extends to barely keeping it upright and a fancy for steering it towards the lake. Next up were the sledge hammers which proved a little easier than pushing tyres but then that’s not saying much. So tonight we ran with tyres (well tried to run) and then sledge-hammered them to death in the park. We got some pretty weird looks...I’m not sure why?

Later Taters xxx

Do You Have An Extra Large In This?

I went shopping today and found a few dresses that I can wear to work. I've gone down a dress size which is nice and some of things I'd been wearing are fitting better. I just got my first CRT job the other day and I realised It’s gotten hot and I had nothing appropriate to wear. The problem is I refuse to buy clothes as I get bigger in hopes that I’ll loose more weight. Which means buying new things will just have been a waste of money, but at the same time I need to be realistic, I never loose that much weight very fast and I need to be presentable for work. I managed to find a few leggings and tunics that should last a little while and shrink with me. I’m down to a comfortable size 20 in Autograph clothes now. Mind you I was often wearing this size before I started as I refused to believe I was really a size 22. That’s a good start but it’s almost Christmas so I need to tread carefully. Other things I’m noticing is that sometimes I’m waking up before the alarm and I’m just feeling a lot brighter and energized, which is nice for a change. I feel positive today that maybe just maybe this time I will succeed.

Later Taters xxx

Waist Watchers.

Today was measurement day; I can hear the collective groans from you all echoing and bouncing off the walls of this blog. Yep no one ever really likes measurement day. It’s nerve wracking having to face the facts and evaluate your level of commitment. It’s been six weeks since we started, Sophie took my new measurements and I’ve lost 30cm all up. That doesn’t mean much to me really I find cm’s hard to comprehend. Sophie seems impressed but I always look to the scales for my validation. I’m down 9.8kg (including the 2 kg I lost on my own a couple of weeks before signing up with Sophie). Soph hates that I am so governed by my digital scales but I am and I’m sure we will address that addiction in another post down the track. I do feel that clothes are fitting better but the scales indicate I’ve only lost a little over 7kg since starting with Sophie. That’s almost 10 if you include the 2kg I lost prior to starting PT, but I would have thought I could do better than that based on previous attempts. Then again I guess I should be celebrating that I’m losing no matter how slowly, hopefully this means I am doing it the healthy and permanent way??

Later Taters xxx

Weapons of Mass Reduction

Kettle bells, medicine balls and box jumps, oh mi! These are a few of my least favourite things. Now that I have managed to fit two movie references in my first sentence it’s time to explore some of Sophie’s tools of trade a little more closely. or as I like to call them “weapons of mass reduction”, (yes I did just squeeze in another movie reference there, pathetic I know but what else do you expect from a girl whose spent a great deal of her life on the couch?). Anyway the purpose of this little reference guide is so that when I get on here whining and complaining about all the things I had to do and hated at training, you’ll know just what I’m talking about (though unless you go out and try a few of these things for yourself you’ll never truly be able to sympathise).

Check back here and I will continue to update this post as Sophie introduces us to new forms of cruel and sometimes unusual punishment.

Weapon: Kettle Bells

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Weapon: Medicine Balls

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Weapon: Boxing gloves

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Weapon: Dumbbell

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Weapon: Resistance band

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Weapon: Sledgehammer

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Weapon: Truck Tyre

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Weapon: Box

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Weapon: Green pole

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Later Taters xxx

Mission Slimpossible!

Oh mi god! I turned up to training today and I can’t believe I lived to tell the tale! We had to swing kettle bells above our head and mix up some of the exercises with a medicine ball, doesn’t that sound nice? But wait there’s more. Then Sophie told us that we were going to run a lap of the oval, non-stop. I let a little laugh out before I realized she was serious. “If you stop or slow to a walk at any time, I’ll make you do it again” she said. I wanted to tell her I couldn’t, that I’d be knackered just walking it, but I was too afraid to protest. I just put my head down and started to shuffle. I looked at the ground the whole time. It made it easier not to look at how far we had to go. Sophie shuffled with us, encouraging us the whole way. As we approached 2/3rds of the way I began to wane and wonder seriously if I would make it. I dropped back a little in hopes that I could savour my energy, but then falling behind felt worse. With about 100 meters to go I looked up and picked up speed in a desperate attempt to make it back to the starting gate. My feet were dragging along the bitumen and I could barely hear Sophie over the sound of my heavy breathing. But guess what I made it! Tez made it back first, an incredible feat (what a bloody trooper) and I collapsed in behind her in combination of disbelief and relief. Thank god we wouldn’t have to do it again. Today was an awesome session. I hated every minute of it but it tested me and I left with a sense of accomplishment. I’m so proud of myself right now, who would have guessed I could do that? Sophie, that’s who! Perhaps this time reaching my goal is possible?

Later Taters xxx

Waist Management

Terri and I met with a personal trainer today, I’ve never had one before and the idea is more than a little scary. Sophie was everything I thought she’d be, her van was intimidating and so was she. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I certainly wasn’t expecting to be standing alongside a busy street having my measurements taken eek!! Terri and I walked with her down to the park talking tentatively about why we needed her. Once in the park Sophie asked us to complete a number of tasks and recorded our times and reps. I wasn’t surprised when I could barely complete any of the activities she gave us to do, nor when I struggled to walk back up the hill after we finished. My chest was burning, my calves too and I was puffing… ridiculously. How did I get here? I mean I know how, but why? Why haven’t I got a hold of this already? I don’t really have the money to be signing up to personal training (PT) right now but I don’t think I can cope with the idea of not doing it either. 

One of my friends suggested I try again for the next season of TBL but I’m determined not to be eligible for next years show. I want to change so badly and the idea of PT is very appealing, it’s a huge part of why I wanted to go on Loser. I’m not only looking to loose weight this time but looking to gain back some of the respect I’ve lost from having failed so many times before. I don’t know how unrealistic it is anymore but I want my body to look the best it can and do the best it can. I’m ashamed about not treating it better and am petrified that even if I loose the weight I still won’t like what I see in the mirror. So that’s it I’ll give it a go for as long as I can afford, at least it’s something.

Later Taters xxx

Chew the fat.

I met with Terri today, we talked for ages. I found myself opening up to her and being the most honest I’ve been out loud in a long time. I think it was the combination of her gentle nature and her own raw honesty that encouraged me to purge my tortured thoughts. I felt bare and exposed but that my confessions were safe and accepted without judgment, something I haven’t felt in awhile. I never thought that I’d find myself identifying with someone else out there on so many levels, so many issues.  We spoke about things I’ve never told anyone, things I haven’t been able to admit myself. It was cleansing and I felt a different kind of weight was lifted. I feel ready to give losing weight a really good go again and finally feeling that small change in me has lifted my heart and hopes once more.

Later Taters xxx

Not worth the weight!

I had never refreshed my email so often than during the past 3 weeks, it became a ridiculous ritual each day. Then Dum Dum Duuuuuuuuum, there it was in my inbox, that menacing, flagged email that seemed to be mocking me with its bold font. I knew straight away, I would have been called, Erin was called. It was like P.E. at school all over again, kids are picking teams and they aren’t calling out your name…..

The subject read: The Biggest Loser Thank You. I opened it and my heart sank, The tribe has spoken, you’ve been eliminated from the race, You’re Fired, You’re not The One. If you have not been given a rose, please take this moment to say your goodbyes…. hang up your apron, snuff out your torch and leave the farm. Unfortunately you are not the Biggest Loser.  L

Later Taters xxx

It's not over till the fat lady sings.

I’ve agonized over these 2 weeks, not only about whether I’ve made it through to the next stage but about what I’m going to do if I haven’t? My self talk has swung between positive and negative predictions, preparing myself for bitter disappointment and at the same time visualizing life in the house and beyond. I even window shopped for what I would pick for my dream outfit. Now, just when I think I’ve experienced the longest 2 weeks of my life, an email has appeared informing me that the casting process had been extended and we have to weight (pun intended) another week. Thankfully my friend Erin was also lucky enough to get an audition. I say thankfully because I would have felt terrible if she hadn’t. After all it was her who encouraged me to apply again. Now she tells me she just found out that she’s made it to the final 40 and was undergoing medicals and psych tests…I know I haven’t made it. They won’t take both of us, we know each other and not only that but Erin’s audition was after mine so I should have heard by now if I’m through. She was confident that she did well...I was not. I don’t know why but I can’t give up the idea of getting in completely, I still need to wait and hear for sure. Always the eternal optimist I guess.

Later Taters xxx

In the thick of it.

Two days later and I was a bundle of nerves on the train. I’d packed numerous outfits and planned to stay with a friend in Melbourne for the night. Exiting the train with sweaty palms and a churning stomach I made my way to a disabled toilet at DFO. I prayed that any good karma I had accumulated wasn’t about to be flushed down the loo by so selfishly occupying a disabled toilet. I tried to get ready slowly and calmly and more importantly without letting any of my stuff touch the dubious situation that was the floor. With my make up done, I put on the bright floral dress. It was strapless so I’d have to wear a cardi and it wasn’t very fitted so I felt it accentuated how large I was, but hey wasn’t that the point?  I decided that the colours would reflect my “bright” and fun personality and at the very least might assist in standing out from the presumed crowd that would be there. All hot and bothered, I began grunting my way into a pair of Bridget Jones style, sucky-in undies when I suddenly paused for a second and recalled where I was headed. On this one occasion it might pay not to try and appear smaller. Having spent far too long a time in a public toilet than I was comfortable with, I gingerly made my way out of the toilet and down the street to the audition. I passed a couple of large people sitting out front and sized them up, wondering if they were there competing for a spot and then I realized how early I was. I set off around the block and found a spot to sit down and paint my nails (or various parts of my fingers as it turned out) with my shaking hands.

With no more insecure adjustments to my appearance left to make, I eventually mustered the courage to go back. I met a lovely girl Terri in the foyer; we chattered nervously and discovered that coincidently we came from the same town. Others began to arrive and soon my stomach started churning so much it may as well have got up and walked out for me. I stood up from the couch to do one of several nervous wees (yep that’s right I was still going, only now that’s all I had left to give), when the button from my dress flew off and skipped across the floor. “Typical” I first thought. I’m so fat my dress can’t even stay done up for the audition. I decided instead of getting upset I’d take it as a good omen – clearly I was meant to be there… needed to be there.

After what seemed like an eternity, 5 of us were led up to a room to have our photo taken, headshot, full body and profile. We were introduced to 3 producers and one by one the cameraman filmed us as they asked us questions about our lives, fears, dreams, dating history etc. I thought my heart was going to jump out of my chest as Terri passed me the microphone and the producers eyes fixated on mine. She had a story…. An interesting story and with a unique spin…. “Shit I didn’t have a story!” The producers perused my application, one commenting on my retro look and likeness to Amy Winehouse. I was so nervous I could hear myself stumbling on words and rambling without thinking. I made a joke… it wasn’t funny, I blushed and fumbled along. It felt like I’d been out of my body when I handed on the microphone. I hoped that whatever was next, when they spoke to us one on one I’d do better, I’d be more calm… a little witty…. perhaps even entertaining.

I half listened to the people that spoke after me, relating in some way to each of their stories. I kicked myself for information they gave that I’d forgotten. But it was ok because one guy had a girlfriend, they wanted singles…so he couldn’t go through, one girl looked half the size of me…she didn’t “need” to go through, another girl had two knee reconstructions…surely she wouldn’t go through. Suddenly everyone got up and they were thanking us for coming in, panic set in as I realized that was it, those short few minutes was all I had to show my personality and let my desire for this opportunity shine. I couldn’t help feeling an overwhelming sense of disappointment in myself, a feeling I had become accustomed to these days. I walked out handing over a compilation of photos I had put together that showed myself gorging on a variety of foods. I mumbled a quick explanation to KDV about someone suggesting I bring photos and reluctantly walked out knowing deep down I hadn’t been me, more importantly I hadn’t been anyone worthy of being seen on tv.

Terri had waited for me in the foyer; we exchanged facebook details and walked to the corner together both in disbelief that it was over. We spoke throw away lines like “What were the chances?” and “I didn’t think I’d get this far”, both secretly hiding small hopes from each other. I wandered up to the station and caught the metro to Liz’s house. She made me dinner and introduced me to her new fella. I tried to politely engage in conversation but couldn’t stop thinking about the audition. I was happy for her as she gushed about her new romance and recent weight loss, but I couldn’t concentrate, I found myself overwhelmed by disappointment and self loathing. This was my turn and I blew it.

Later that night I wrote KDV an email expressing my regret and went to bed…but did not sleep. The next morning the reply “Thank you Aimee, I hope you got some sleep” waited for me in my inbox. After much analysis over the response I decided it was a good thing, even if it was a “thank you but you still didn’t make it you pestering loon”, she’d at least been kind enough to reply. I walked to the train and tried not to go over it all again, tried not to hope too much. Now all I had to do was wait 2 weeks to hear if I’d made the final 40. 

2 weeks you’ve gotta be kidding me!!

Later Taters xxx

Fat chance.

I know I’m far from being Australia’s Next Top Model. I’m no Beauty, no Geek or a potential Farmers Wife. I don’t have the Xfactor nor do I Think I Can Dance. I’m not a Master Chef or anyone’s Idol, but I do believe I could be the next Biggest Loser.

This realisation all started on September 20^th with a random phone-call. I thought it was a telemarketer, trying to sell me something that “promised to change my life”. We’d been inundated with these kind calls and one kept asking for our bank account details. I answered the phone in a surly sort of tone and prepared myself to hurl abuse down the receiver. This time it wasn’t a telemarketer, but what casting agent K was offering, was most definitely a life changing opportunity. She’d read my application and was calling with an audition for The Biggest Loser (TBL).

Earlier that year I was contacted by my friend Erin, we’d met on a Scottish Christmas bus tour a couple of years ago and with the help of such stupendous advances in the world of modern technology (and by this I mean facebook) we’d managed to stay in contact from time to time. In her message Erin told me she was looking for a fourth person to be a member of her “family” in the next season of TBL. When she told me that she’d been close to making it through previous auditions, a flicker of hope sparked somewhere deep inside me, I got to thinking maybe this time I might really have a chance. I had applied for TBL in previous years but never heard anything beyond submitting the application, here though was someone who had. Without hesitation I downloaded the application, completed it and pressed send.

My housemate Jenni stared at me quizzically while I spoke with K and though I’d told nobody that I had applied for the show I couldn’t think of a cover story fast enough and confessed to her what the call was about. We sat there for a couple of hours talking, both of us in astonishment, her because I’d applied and me because I’d made it through to the next round. We discussed in detail what it would mean if I got on the show, what I’d have to do. Was I, a girl who went to extreme lengths to keep my weight and issues secret really prepared to stand up in bike shorts and a crop top and expose myself to an entire nation? If it meant finally achieving my goal weight then …YES! As we delved deeper I ran intermittently to the bathroom. I felt sick and excited all at once, it seemed like the weight loss process had already begun with several nervous poo’s.

Later Tatters xxx

Life on arse.

This is not my first attempt to lose weight, you name it I’ve done it! Numerous weight loss programs, tablets to reduce fat absorption, tablets to increase metabolism, prescription drugs, gyms, social sport, aquasize, diet shakes, etc the list goes on and on and here I am worse than ever and at my heaviest.

I guess I should share with you a brief summary of how I came to be here, my life thus far. I’m sure as we get to know each other I’ll find time to fill you in on many personal anecdotes, but for now here’s the short version.

I used to dance calisthenics, ballet, and ballroom. I performed in local theatre companies too, but then started putting on weight as a young teen and my mum and dad tried to take the tough love approach and were at times pretty hard on me in their efforts to help - I'm the eldest of 5 girls and the only one who’s been really overweight. I'm a rather large number on the scales whereas in a quick comparison, my sisters all weigh close to half my number.  My parents meant well, we are a very close and loving family, but I do remember times like when on our way home from school, I was dropped k’s from home and I had to walk the rest of the way as I watched the rest of the family drive off. I was served different meals sometimes and desert was not allowed. This led to secretly eating food when I was home alone in anticipation of being deprived later. Unfortunately I started this habit at around 13 years of age and still find myself eating secretively in my car or pre-eating before meals so it looks like I don’t eat so much when I can’t avoid eating in front of others.

Some of the bullying in my teens was pretty hard to take but I'm sure others had much worse. It was all the usual taunts, rotten food thrown at me even my hair set alight at one point, but through all this I had good friends and tried to make the most of everything else.

Anyway after a few blunders in the “what will I be when I grow up” phase of my life I ended up at university studying teaching. Eeek school wasn’t great the first time round and now I’ve gone back for more. Every placement I would have at least one kid ask if I was pregnant or say something that made me, a grown woman, later break down in tears once I got home (or the car park if I couldn’t make it). I’ve just finished uni now so this couldn't be a better time for me to refocus and start a fresh new chapter in my life.

Later Taters xxx

Does this blog make me look fat?

I have spent what seems an eternity concealing my weight from others. My BMI, BMR, Kg’s, Measurements, Bio-Age etc are all numbers I have kept hidden from the judgement of others. I recall a time in high school when we were expected to write our fitness stats in the front of our phys ed book. We were to record and compare our progress throughout the course. Our weight and height measurements were to be included. One of my "friends" had been peer pressured into a reconnaissance mission like no other, that was to obtain my book and reveal my weight, something I had always been very secretive about. He opted for the classic distraction technique and made a sloppy grab for my book mid conversation. I snatched it back as quick as a flash and clung to it desperately as he tried to pry it from my hands. After much struggling he managed to rip it from my grasp, he opened it and glanced at the number on the page before I stole it back. Tears started to form in my eyes as he rushed over to the group of girls on the other side of the room. I tried to blink them away as I heard them laugh. I felt my face burning and then suddenly someone said “You idiot Joel, she can’t weigh 154 kilograms”... He’d read my height. I scribbled over those numbers in that book until pieces of cardboard began lifting up from the page.

This brings me to my current dilemma with this blog. I am at a cross roads, I am conflicted about exposing my feelings, my numbers…myself. Michelle Bridges says the first step in getting real about your weight issue is acknowledgement. This blog is meant to be my acknowledgement and attempt at creating some form of accountability for myself. It also offers the opportunity to cheat a little bit because of its capacity to be completely anonymous. This is a tempting option to me. I can’t decide how public I am willing to make this yet. Would I use it only as a therapeutic tool for myself? Keep my page private as some kind of online diary or journal? I could always publish it, but withhold photos and use pseudonyms in place of real names to avoid really put myself too far out there? Or perhaps I should just suck it up, use the potential embarrassment and humiliation of friends and family coming across my site as motivation to succeed.

I feel it’s important that I take some ownership over this process. I think I have decided I will not attempt to disguise my identity but that I am not ready to expose my weight related stats just yet. Once I’ve reached some goals and am headed steadily in the right direction, I would like to think I might be proud enough to disclose some of these details to you all.

So having said that what is to follow will be me…unedited and in the raw…eek!

Later Taters xxx

To blog or not to blog? That is the question...

Hello my name is Aimee and I’m addicted to being FAT.

I am a food junkie and master of exercise avoidance.

food junk·ie n.
Omnivore obsessed with knowing where the next morsel of sustenance will come from and in what form it will take.

I am a self confessed, self indulgent, self saboteur who frequently suffers from severe cases of the shoulda coulda woulda’s.

But that’s it, I’ve had enough. I’m here in a desperate attempt to win the battle against my inner coach potato.

I read somewhere that…

"Unless you're prepared to make a change in the present, your future can only reflect your past".

So here I am trying to create a new future for myself …again.

The idea has been suggested to me (on more than one occasion) that being overweight is my choice, that if I really wanted it badly enough I would have done something about it by now. This used to make me so incredibly mad. The supposed payoffs I gain from having lived my life in this permanent fat suit, could never compare to my imagined happiness as a healthy and socially acceptable weight.

It’s disturbing to recall what a massive role (pun intended) being massive has played in my life. Though not highly religious now, as a child I prayed to God and begged him to help me get thin. I bargained anything from good behaviour to sacrificing various pleasures. I remember wishing on dandelions, birthday candles, and the first stars I saw at night, always for the same thing. I imagined being able transform with the twitch of my nose like Samantha on Bewitched.

I developed weird obsessive behaviours from a young age too. I would work out on my dad’s gym equipment, threw away my lunches at school, often ate in secret and for a time I religiously sculled 3 litres of water in one go before bed. These are only a few of the strange rituals I would engage in from time to time. Many of these habits over the years have manifested into behaviours that closely resemble some kind of disorder.

I’m not exactly sure about this blogging thing yet, but I desperately need some kind of outlet for my internal dialogue. In the past I’ve kept numerous exercise books to record my weight loss attempts. Most of the time they are filled with the cold hard facts and figures, perhaps even a drawing or two depicting areas I need to work on or what I want to look like. I’ve been known to spend hours on end trawling internet weight loss program sites, visiting “before and after” pictures, reading success stories, researching surgery sites and reading product reviews. I’ve spent a heap of time in the magazine aisle of the supermarket doing the same. If there’s a weight watchers transformation story I identify with, I’ll buy the magazine and scrutinise it a million times over. The health and exercise section in bookshops are the same for me and as you might expect, anything weight related is a must see on TV.

I could prattle on for ages about my weight…and sometimes I do. I see my friends eyes glaze over and sense their internal groan “Oh no really…again”.  But for me it’s all consuming, it’s been that way for years; I’m trapped on this accelerating carousel, reaching out for a sick bag. 

So now I’m here and the purpose of this blog is to create an environment where I can best voice my weight related thoughts, experiences and fixations to those who choose to listen. If I was to be truly honest, I also hope that it becomes a place that documents my own triumph over this battle of the bulge and inspires others along the way. I have accepted I have a problem and am eager to change. I've failed many attempts over many years. What will make it any different this time? I don’t know? What I do know, is that I do not choose to be fat, being fat is instead about the choices I haven’t been making.

I can’t promise the reading from here on in will be in anyway stimulating or profound. However if thus far you’ve fought the urge to whip off your fat pants and hang yourself, I commend you and challenge you to meet me here often. 


If you want, we could make a pact to do this together, go on I dare you…put down the fork and step away from the buffet…

Later Taters xxx