Gym bunny

My go-to top for a beasting!

One of the things I'm going to end up posting about a lot is fitness. Exercise is a passion of mine, I love it, it keeps me sane and lets me eat cake. I was a hugely active teenager, doing every sport going. At university, I did less but still some, although not enough to combat the Freshman 15 - the library I worked in during my first year actually had a cake shop inside it... After uni though, my physical activity ground to a halt. I had to give every ounce of time and energy to my job, plus I moved from office to office every few months so could never take out a gym membership. Also, as someone who'd only ever done team sports and dancing, I actually thought I wouldn't like the gym. But, eventually, when my life was a bit more settled and the thought of being totally unfit forever more got too much too bear, I signed up for a gym. It was frighteningly expensive - I earned so little at the time - but it was worth every penny 50 times over. It's no underestimate to say it transformed my life. It cheers me up when I'm down, keeps me sane when I feel I'm going mad, and gives me a purpose on aimless days.

For five years now I've been going three or four times a week, sometimes to classes, sometimes just me, the weights and the machines - I absolutely love a good beasting, the harder the better! I was prompted to write about it today - although I'm sure it wouldn't have been long otherwise - by this great post from Sally at Already Pretty. It's already one of my favourite blogs but she's so spot on. I agree totally about never feeling body conscious at the gym, strange as that might seem - in fact, I never feel better about my body than when I've got a good sweat on! And describing it as feeling badass is exactly right - it reminds me why I wouldn't want to be a skinny waif. And the more things in life that can remind women of that the better. Strength and power are not words often used in a positive way about us, but gosh, they should be.