‘Help me help you’
Its been years since i first became a fitness trainer. Counting them in days seems futile, but i can count them in kilos. I come from the “Fat-Free” generation – you know, where eliminating butter from your toast and ghee from your chapaties was the solution to all your weight issues. I routinely ate burgers without mayo and ordered my salads ‘undressed’. It all worked fine, i was extremely fit, extremely skinny, and all was right with the world.
I was invincible! I was taking 2 group classes a day (at least) and attending dance rehearsals and taking at least 2 personal training sessions a day. I kept a close eye on my diet, and my weight stayed merrily within the my ideal weight range. (Well actually under it, but thats a discussion which deserves its own post.)
A bad bout of typhoid brought an almost abrupt end to all my shenanigans when i was suddenly immobilised for almost 2 months, and had nothing to do but (gasp) think! The weight came off even more during this time, but unfortunately, I came out the other end of my illness thinking that fitness wasn’t the career for me. (Again, a whole other post). It took me 3 whole years to actually take the sabbatical i needed and wanted. The feeling of euphoria it brought, however, lasted about 3 weeks.