So tomorrow is the day. The day that my body has waited for, for 22 years...having written it down like that I feel it's a little overdue. Excited doesn't quite fit the emotional bill, I'm nervous. Like any other goal you set there is always the inevitable feeling that impending failure is a possibility. Over my somewhat premature life I have never been comfortable with the feeling on not reaching high standards ( it must be the Asian in me), in nearly everything I have done I have wanted to achieve the best that I could ( good Indian girls become doctors and lawyers, or if they have an identity crisis they do Classics...). For some reason I have never quite translated this theme to the physical aspect of my life.
I put this down to the fact I have been labelled the 'Carb Queen' from the age of... birth?! That should have been the indication as to why, by the age of 22 I really do resemble a potato - of the overgrown bulging sort, not the perfectly formed jersey royal (that's more the Kate Middleton's of the world). My potato double is that big jacket that you spot amongst the smaller jackets that is just a bit too large for lunch. Whilst the other jackets are filled with tuna and cottage cheese, mine is bursting with full fat butter and a hefty dose of cheddar.
BUT and here it is, I shall be the 'Carb Queen' no more. This realisation has come with a sharp intake of breath and to be honest, a loss of identity. I'll get over it, why you might ask - except for the obvious fact that this blog is about me getting fit (dumbass). The real reason: IM GOING TO LOOK LIKE RIHANNA. (with smaller nails because they are just grim). BRING. IT. ON.
Goodbye carbs... It's been a good run. I will miss you, I'm not going to lie but I deserve better.
Fatty BB xxx
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