A little bit about me...

I'm 45 years old and I live in London with my partner, our dog and two cats.  Noone of course owns cats.

There are many, many overweight people in the world, each with their own story.  I'm one of them, and here's my story.

I've been overweight all my life.  I can't remember a time when I wasn't on some diet or other.  They never worked.  I'd always lose weight, then pile it straight back on and then more.  I used to get kicked around the playground for being fat, so I used to comfort eat as revenge.  The psychology is really easy - and that's exactly where I still go when I'm down.  Straight to the fridge.

So, I know I have a problem, because it's been with me for over 30 years.  The thing is, what to do about it?

Until recently I always thought 'OK I'll aim to lose weight [by the end of the year/my birthday/sometime/soon]'.  And it never happened.  Life got busy.  Life was, and remains, very good.  I have a lovely partner, a lovely dog, and two cats.  I have a job I love.  Who could want for more? Except now I'm thinking there won't be that many 'next years' or, indeed, that many birthdays.  I'm facing diabetes, heart disease, cancer, immobility, and  cankles.  This is not the future I want for myself.  I want to enjoy every last drop of my life and I won't be able to if I don't stop my slide into seriously morbid obesity.

I'm still relatively healthy, but I'm in serious trouble.   I need to sort myself out urgently.

Throughout my school years, and then on into my twenties and thirties, I played sport with varying degrees of success.  Hockey, and also football, and rowing too.  Poverty meant I cycled everywhere.   I was alway 'big' (probably between 12 and 13 stone - about 180lbs) but the sport helped keep the weight broadly under control, and kept me fit too.    

Then I hit my late 30s.  My career took an unexpected, exciting direction, and absorbed me.  My hours crept up, until I was becoming too unreliable for team sports.  So my participation in sport changed to watching rather than playing.   And because I could finally afford it I bought a lovely big motorbike, so and the  cycling fell by the wayside.  Bad habits crept into my eating.  I'd graze.  I'd rush food.  And all the time, unnoticed by me,  I was piling on the weight.  

Here's a photo of me, taken on Sunday evening (21 June):

Pretty gruesome, huh?  I was shocked. I'd never seen myself like this.  This is not how I think of myself at all.  The person in the picture just doesn't match up with the person in my head.  

And for the record, here's the other measurements.  They ain't pretty either:

I'm 5'8".  I weigh 270lbs.

Biceps: 15.5"

Calves: 18"

Thighs: 30"

Chest: 50.5"

Stomach 51"

Hips: 55"

270lbs!!  That's just over 19 stone, and pretty much as heavy as I've ever been.   And I wish I could say a lot of it is muscle, but it really isn't and as you can see from the photo it's all flab that's migrated to my middle.  Apple.  Or melon?  Take your pick.

Time for a change, and I think I've found just the thing to help me get my life back on track, and it's here:   http://www.mylondonpersonaltrainer.com/