Chloe Moss, 23, is a fashion blogger and freelance writer who graduated with an English Literature degree from King’s College London in July. In her ninth Funemployed column, she reflects on health and fitness, and whether it has a place in her life.
Disclaimer: This is NOT going to be an article to incite “fitspiration”. It is not one for your #fitspo wall. It is not going to be the literary incarnation of Kate Hudson’s Fabletics adverts. And the only glow you are going to get will be akin to the kind you might feel after a couple of shots of tequila.
Now that’s out of the way, let’s get on with reflecting on my week. This week I had one of my periodic realisations that I might be a bit unfit. My relationship with exercise isn’t a complex one, but basically I am lazy. I’ve never been bothered enough to actually engage in any form of exercise, although about once a year I feel a small pang of guilt about not exercising. Currently, I am experiencing that yearly feeling of guilt.
There are a two questions that I ask myself when I start to question my fitness. Firstly, am I out of breath after one flight of stairs? Why yes, I am a tad wheezy at times. It ain’t easy being wheezy, that’s for sure, and I don’t have any other excuse than being unfit. A 23 year-old should not be out of breath after walking up the escalator on the Underground.
Two years ago I went to the lengths of joining a gym, and bought trainers and leggings that weren’t leather for once (see above photo). But my enthusiasm was short-lived when I remembered that I hate public perspiration, and my lack of co-ordination renders most machines a health hazard. I quit that gym and then re-joined a year or so later, but that time I would take my Kindle and read erotica on the treadmill, and let me tell you now, Seven Nights in a Rogue’s Bed is not conducive to a good work-out. It’s also a load of rubbish, I mean I refuse to believe people had Playboy-esque mirrored bedroom ceilings in the 17th century.
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And secondly, and this is important: Does my bum hurt when I run because it hits the top of my thighs? I’m glad you asked, because that is something that does indeed happen to me. For reasons unknown, I have been blessed with a butt. That’s all well and good, but it hurts on the few occasions when I run because it is cumbersome. I’m not saying I want to get rid of the cushion, because let’s be sure it is great and it adds a jaunt to my walk that cannot be denied. However, it should not hurt me. This makes me think that maybe I should firm it up.
So I’ve started going on Fitness Blender and doing their home videos, but honestly, it is a lot of effort to do 10 minutes of exercise when I have episodes of Real Housewives of New York to watch or books to read (I do that sometimes). I’m still trying but the other day I did one and the next day I was so sore that I could barely lift my arms to wash my hair. This anecdote should further highlight how weak I actually am. The journey is long, and the struggle is – dare I say it – real.
What I have learnt from this experience is that it isn’t a cheat day if it’s every day of the week. And with that breakthrough, I will leave you to go and find solace in a Boots chocolate log.