I’m preparing for my bikini photo shoot, which perhaps you already know.

I’ve been in ‘prep’ mode for weeks now, supposedly. By supposedly I mean that perhaps I’ve spent the first several weeks – as much as 4 or 5 – mentally sharpening the saw. Getting myself ready to go into dietary and emotional battle.

Or perhaps I was just being a bit lazy or undisciplined up until very recently, not willing to do what it takes.

Not going quite 100% on my nutrition for the best part of 2 months in fact. Watching the weeks tick by, the countdown truly kick into action. Feeling as though it was still ok when I had 8 weeks left, then 7 but then starting to get annoyed at myself by 6 and then really freaking out when it got down to 5.

At which point I emailed and pushed the shoot back by 3 weeks.

Felt annoyed at myself but also relieved.

Had to at the same time acknowledge that I had to take some serious action if I wanted to actually make this happen and not end up pushing it back again or backing out altogether.

Had to admit that this weird little belief I have that I ‘should’ be able to super-shape up as easily as I did in years gone by – whilst eating pretty much what I wanted, even (gasp!) processed carbs – well –

That it was time to get over that belief.

Considering it hasn’t worked for a good 4 years, basically since pregnancy.

Not because of pregnancy, not by any means.

I guess from a timing point of view I used to train 2 or even 3 times a day so I certainly got away with more relaxed eating.

But also I’m a bit older, it seems a bit more effort, I’ve found out in the past year about some major hormone and toxicity issues I’ve had to deal with; stuff that severely affects body fat.

It’s harder.

Maybe, the little voice has whispered on more than one occasion, it’s no longer possible for me.

Maybe my worst fear of all is set to come true – the fear of being mid-thirties and looking like ‘a woman/mother who used to be fit’.

Who clearly still works out and is athletic but yet has a layer of chunk.

And a faint air of despair, of resignation. Who, if you talk to her, will tell you that her body doesn’t reflect how she feels she should look, who she feels she truly IS.

Who doesn’t understand why she can’t simply knuckle down and Do. What. It. Takes.

I know this woman. I speak to her every day in one way or another.

And she scares the shit out of me.

Not because I believe you have to be a certain size in order to be happy or worthy it because I know that for me I am not truly nourishing and moving my body in a way that makes me feel damn proud of myself.

Training at half mast rather than like a bat out of hell. Which I seriously used to do every single time. How do I reclaim that?

I don’t know.

In some ways it’s just a choice, like flicking the switch mentally. It’s been happening lately. I’ll be teaching a lot on this in the online bootcamp which starts next week. And I’m determined to make it stick.

Eating clean but overdoing it on nuts, berries, dark chocolate. Occasionally missing meals due to silly old beliefs or just poor organisation. Questioning my own expert knowledge on nutrition even! And yeah, sometime I am even tempted by the idea of a quick fix, like fasting or detox diets or low cal. Despite having tried that crap in the past and really learning the hard way that it doesn’t work.

(Binge eating, anyone?)

So.

Personal pride is what it’s all about for me. It’s the reason for this shoot. And yeah, I do know that when I truly get my butt 100% into gear I will not only feel proud of myself in an incredible and empowering way but also that my accomplishment will be reflected in my physique.

I will look the way I feel I really am, somewhere deep within.

Here’s the thing.

I am not a robot. I’m not some perfect person who just delights in an all-bland diet and has no attachment to food.

I overeat sometimes.

I eat out of boredom, or to relieve stress, or when I’m tired, or just because it’s there and once it’s in front of me I can’t seem to bloody well stop half the time!

I can eat clean all day and then eat the equivalent of 3 meals between 6pm and bed-time.

Munch munch munch.

Nom nom nom.

Silly undisciplined girl.

Or at least that’s what I tell myself.

What it really comes down to, is this –

Your reason has to be bigger than your excuse.

It has to matter so damn much that your need to eat, to revel in bad habits or to use excuses like hormone problems or age or busyness or stress or having kids or being alive (!) as an excuse just –

Goes.

This doesn’t happen overnight.

It is totally a journey and it’s one with ups and downs.

You will fight this battle until you’re exhausted and then you will have to keep fighting.

Rarely if ever have I seen someone just do a complete 360. Some people can be robots, or something happens to truly scare them and their big why becomes so hugely apparent that the old them slips straight away.

For most of us, it’s not that simple.

You have to be prepared to wage war on the beliefs, the excuses, the supposed needs that hold you back.

You have to acknowledge that this will be like a tug of war for sometime and maybe forever. They say the craving for sugar, for example, is with you for life once you’ve been an addict.

And really, who amongst us hasn’t been?

So you’ll tug.

You’ll feel you’re winning for a while.

Which you are.

But then you’ll be pulled back.

The scales will be unfriendly and you’ll feel the familiar sense of failure, the voice telling you what’s the point.

You’ll see a photo of yourself that makes you shudder and instantly have the urge to eat.

You’ll have a stressful day and just need that sweet release.

And sometimes it will even happen for no reason at all. You’ll be pulling along nicely on that tug of war rope and all of a sudden, BAMM.

You’ll let go.

And fall smack down on your ass in the mud.

The question is, will you get up again?

Will you?

And will you do it just that one time or will you do it every freaking time.

Again. And again. And again.

Until your hands are bloody, torn, your eyes are stinging and your face is red almost like a rash and your hair looks like a scarecrow, and from top to toe you are covered in the scars and wounds of the battle.

But still determinedly holding on to that rope for dear life.

Refusing to let go.

Until one day, and completely out of the blue because you truly thought its NEVER going to get easy or become automatic –

The pull that you’ve been fighting against weakens.

You get a sudden rush of extra strength, a sense that you’re about to achieve something incredible.

And then it happens –

Almost so quickly that you cannot believe it’s real.

And when it does you don’t just cross that line behind you that you’ve been tugging toward you freaking dance over it and the jump around like a crazy person.

Right now, I’m jumping around like a crazy person.

I’ve been fighting this battle for weeks but really for years.

Back and forth.

Winning, sometimes for weeks or even months.

But then being pulled back in.

Yet not giving up.

Even when I was hanging on only by a thread, there was always still a connection.

Now is your time too, if you want it to be.

There is nothing magic that has to happen for it to be your time.

It is as simple as deciding – but really deciding – that you’re ready.

So.

Are you ready?

Can you put your hand on your heart and truly know what your why is? Can you make that why bigger, and brighter, and better, and so damn powerful that any excuse against it doesn’t have a chance?

Can you then do what it takes, day after day, to tighten your grip on that rope, to get that why present in your mind to come back as many times as you need to to your big goal and your reason for achieving it?

No matter how many times you may call on your butt, can you PROMISE with absolute conviction that you will get up again?

The answer is yes. You can.

The question is –

Will you?

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