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From Fat to Fit: The Pilot

So here it is, the greatly overdue first blog. A bit daunting really – you want to sound clever and witty but to start off so strong would mean all the following blogs have to beat it. Low expectations is the way forward keep it simple…so here it is: the blog that is going to out do all other ‘fatty blogs’. See, starting very low on the expectation front, I will be over the moon if only one person reads it (mum that’s you). This blog is going to detail my story from FAT TO FIT. It has been acknowledged that although practically perfect in every way I do need to shed a few pounds here and there…just a few.

Before the epic story starts, like any great novel (as this is likely to be…) one must set the scene. Currently I have self-diagnosed myself with P.U.D.S. That being Post University Depression Syndrome – has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?! I feel at a loss, my previous university life although chaotic and often shall we say lazy at times always had direction; whether that be direction to the library or direction to a bar. Now – I HAVE NO DIRECTION. 2 degrees down and I feel like I’m 17 again, living back at home and itching already to get out. I see musicians on stage, chefs on TV, actors at the cinema ALL YOUNGER THAN ME and all far more successful – why mum and dad did you give me no useable talents?! Being able to eat my body weight in cheese is not going to make me a celebratory, that is unless man vs food gets in touch for a female series. No no no Billie focus the name of this blog: FAT TO FIT. So yes depression in hand I am currently of the cheery status of unemployment. I have left university all of 10 days ago and I just want a job, that’s all, don’t think its very much to ask. The big ask comes with where I want a job. Without being too unrealistic I want a job in London, preferably with Vogue (would settle for Tatler) taking pictures of topless male models and being given Chanel handbags as incentives from work. Not too much to ask at all.

Get a grip I tell myself. Dreams do not come true. Not Mulberry and Chanel and Eddie Redmayne filled dreams anyway. The harsh reality: I need to get myself into shape before I get considered seriously for any job. Not very fair in this day and age with likes of sexism, ageism, perhaps I should suggest fatism and demand a job instead. I have already gone off on a tangent…I was setting the scene.

So at home, unemployed, overweight and despite the cheery disposition of this entry, unhappy.

This is all about to change and this blog is going to document it. You know the saying ‘the diet starts on Monday’. Well I’m going to go one better…’the diet starts on Tuesday’, when I get back from lashing in Bath ( going to keep living the uni dream for one more weekend). BOOM.

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