(You have got to love good genes, thank you gene pool!)
And that I have never been on a diet.
(Courtesy of a super zippy metabolism)
And that I have never had to cruelly convince myself that Diet Coke is just as lovely as the sugar and calorie loaded Regular Coke.
And that as far back in life as I can remember I have eaten at least one bar of chocolate per day (except whilst pregnant with Thomas when I abstained for the whole pregnancy, but that is a whole other story) but generally more.
You hate me right now, right?
Well times are a-changing, sadly.
When I had Thomas I was back in my regular clothes the very same day (thought to be fair I didn't have to resort to maternity clothes until the 32nd week of pregnancy). A fact that was utterly disgusting to most people, apparently some people find it deeply offensive if you effortlessly get your figure back post baby.
In contrast, when I had Eli less than 12 hours later I was back at home and my mum came to visit and truly one of the first things she said to me was 'Well looks like you'll have to do sit ups this time'. (Yes, I am still holding a slight grudge about it in case you're wondering).
I did do sit ups in a bid to locate my abs that were seriously MIA.
But I quickly got bored and gave up. Sit ups it turned out weren't really all that fun and progress was made painfully slowly indeed.
But then something truly appalling happened.
My metabolism rudely started to slow down.
Not drastically by far but enough to make me realise that if I wanted to continue to live a lifestyle filled with regular coke and chocolate bars I might actually have to get my backside off the sofa and raise my heart rate above 60 bpm occasionally.
An incredibly painful conclusion to come to for one with a serious allergy to all things exercise related.
Then Rob and I were getting ready for a rare trip to the cinema actually together for once (I know, crazy!) and I tried on a top that I hadn't worn in a while and looked down and saw my stomach, the stomach of Carol when she is 3 months pregnant. Sadness and hormones quickly turned to horror.
Horror induced a chain of reactions that had me committing to reclaim my abs, ASAP!
So I invested in one of these contraptions which frankly I can't help but feel looks like some apparatus worthy of a torture chamber but it will help me in my voyage of abs reclamation.
The energy my boys have has no limits and I owe it to them to be fitter. Day 1 of reclaiming my abs 15 minutes in I was almost victim of death by asthma attack. But moving on to day 3 I already feel much fitter and better. But with about a gazillion long miles to go.
When I am huffing and puffing and breaking a sweat and my new mechanical best friend is informing me I have successfully burned an entire 97 calories, suddenly that chocolate bar doesn't seem so tasty.
And truthfully I don't know whether to be overjoyed about that or depressed.