“Thanks babe,” I replied, beaming.

“….yeah you know, that chunky one whose book you were reading on holiday. Amy…Schumer?”

“Oh yeah…right…”

I peered in the mirror, deflated, and vowed silently to lose it, once and for all. The man, I mean. That would be 13 stone of excess baggage gone in one fell swoop.

To be fair, he had a point: both Amy and I bore more than a passing resemblance to Miss Piggy in those days – and I clearly liked to hang out with a muppet.

So I gave him the heave-ho…and vowed to heave my arse to the gym.

Faulty relationship dealt with, it was time to continue with my life admin and take stock of my lifestyle. Having stopped smoking at the age of 40, I had been slowly taking baby steps towards a healthier lifestyle. Very slowly. Like, sloth speed. But then the comfort and familiarity of a long-term relationship, coupled with the creeping waistline of the classic middle-aged spread had kiboshed my (admittedly half-baked) attempts at reducing my addiction to baked goods.

Now, aged 42 and 2 stones heavier than I’d like, I was sat drinking sugary cocktails with a group of girlfriends. “I’ve really let myself go these last couple of…years”, I wailed. The girls guffawed into their pornstar martinis. I knew what they were thinking: a few weeks or months, fair enough, you’ve (barely) taken your eye off the (prawn) ball, but…years?! That was just carelessness. I hadn’t realised how long I’d been battering the buffet and chugging hot chocs until I uttered those words. No, no, no, this would not do…

It took me another six months before I took any action, instead choosing to make half-hearted mumblings about joining the gym, or that this would be my last slab of carrot cake (ahhhh carrot cake, my delicious – but malicious – friend). Then, suddenly, my 43rd birthday loomed large…and I knew it was time.

And the change – when it finally came – was huge, instant, and overwhelming. Anyone that knows me knows that I don’t do things by halves, hence the voracious appetite that got me in this pickle – mmmm…cheese and pickles (said in a Homer Simpson-esque drawl) – in the first place.

Overnight, I changed. Since I’ve lost the weight and got in shape I’ve been inundated with requests for information: how did I do it, what support have I had, is there some magic potion I’m touting?

So, Bird’s Eye Viewers, I’ve decided to impart my pearls of wisdom with you. Are you ready? Here goes…

I ate less.

And then.

I moved more.

Sadly, it really is that simple. Or not, as the case may be. It turns out it’s true: nothing tastes as good as fit feels. You have to make a choice. BUT – and it’s a big but, just like mine was – there is also one (surprising) secret ingredient in my body transformation recipe for success, which ladies of a certain age may well be interested in…but more about that later. (I know, I’m such a tease). This is how I lost 2 stones in 2 months and feel incredible, and you can too…

1/. Buy some body fat scales

There’s nothing more likely to give you the boot you need up that big ol’ blubbery backside of yours than stepping onto a set of body fat scales (mine were 12 quid from Aldi – bargain) and discovering you have the same basic body composition as a pork scratching. My initial reading showed I weighed 12 stone 1 (I know – ouch!), was made up of 37% water, 10.7% bone, 30.3% muscle…and a whopping 37% fat! Whaaaat?! Almost 40% lard? Now I’ve been told that body fat scales can be slightly off-kilter, and you don’t have to be Carol Vordermann to notice that those totals come to over 100% (like, how?)…but if there’s ever a time the cold hard facts will slap you in the face after years of guzzling and gorging, it’s when you step on them there body fat scales. You have been warned! I logged my progress every few days, and my most recent readings are: 9 stone 8, 53.5% water, 11.8% bone, 36.1% muscle and 22.2% fat. So I’ve now lost 2.5 stones and 15% fat in 3 months…I’ll take that! I’d recommend monitoring your progress every few days at first, then weekly once you’ve achieved your goal weight (oh yeah – set a goal. You need to know what you’re aiming for and stay focused). Warning: it gets addictive. Sometimes I weigh myself twice a day. I just don’t want to ever go back to having the same fat content as a deep-fried Mars bar.

2/. Take body measurements

As well as stepping on the scales, you’ll want to see the difference in your vital statistics. I’ve dropped 2 dress sizes and lost at least 3 inches from each of the areas I measured – sadly as well as hips, thighs and waist, this also includes my chest…waaaaah! So I may now be the proud owner of a set of abs you could grate cheese on, but the same goes for my ribs. And my boobs resemble two peas on an ironing board. What can I say? You can’t have it all. Well, unless you’ve got a mate on Harley Street and a spare 5k knocking around…

3/. Cut out sugar

Like, completely. If, like me, you’re partial to gallons of liquid calories in the form of sugary tea and coffee shop hot chocolates (I had the front to request a ‘skinny hot chocolate with extra chocolate sprinkles’ with a straight face as my standard staple beverage, day-in, day-out, for years), then you’ll probably have to go cold turkey and banish all hot drinks except for herbal teas. Drinks are empty calories. Brucie Bonus: green tea may taste like swamp water, but it is loaded with energy-giving caffeine and aids weight loss like a pro. Cane it like there’s no tomorrow. Well, upto 3pm, that is. Switch to peppermint after that, and then chamomile before bed, otherwise you’ll be on ceiling duty all night (ie awake and buzzing your bits off).

Oh and note that I specifically singled out ‘hot’ drinks. We all know wine is the stuff of puffer-fish faces and bloated bellies, but I’m not giving that up. Not yet. No siree. But strangely, despite still swigging Sauvy B like it’s going out of fashion, it doesn’t seem to hinder my weight loss. At all. Happy days! If you do everything else I did, I reckon there’s still room for a few cheeky bevvies. Because all work and no play makes Jackie a dull girl. And anyway, when I’m drunk I dance a lot, so it’s all part of the exercise plan, amiright?

I cut out all the obviously sugary snacks completely though: chocolate, sweets, crisps, cakes – all gone. I’ll still have the occasional dessert when I’m out for dinner, but don’t even think about buying those badboys for the house. Ever. Why put temptation in your way like that? It’s like inviting a grizzly bear over for dinner and asking it nicely not to savage you.

4/. Walk, walk, walk (or better still: run)

I don’t drive. I know – shocker! Believe me, the world is a safer place without me behind the wheel. But what this also means is that I walk everywhere. Especially now I’m single without a Jeeves to ferry my ass around town. I walk at least an hour a day, quickly, on my (uphill) commute, which, combined with standing all day in my job as a beauty boutique manager, means I average around 15k steps a day. Every little helps! And if you can run somewhere instead, even better. I run home from work when I can. The lure of the fridge when I get there spurs me on. Oh, and dance at every opportunity. But coming from an old raver, that goes without saying, surely.

5/ Remove red meat

I only eat red meat as a treat when I’m out these days. Actually, that goes for most meat in general. For me, dinner is all about the oily fish, salads, seafood and stir fries (minus the sugary sauces – just a splash of soy or hoisin).

6/ More fruit and veg

Fruit is high in sugar, but at least it’s natural sugars. Rather than snacking on chocolate and sweet treats, I’ll now have Greek yoghurt with blueberries, or dried apricots, raisins or cranberries in portion-controlled snack packs. Nuts are great for snacking too, but high in calories (and oh-so-moreish) so beware! Vegetables may be the food equivalent of a geeky librarian – boring af – but just get them down you and move onto more interesting pastimes… (oh, and sex them up with a sprinkle of chilli flakes).

7/. Be prepared

I always make sure I’ve got my water bottle and a supply of healthy snacks with me to stop me reaching for the bad stuff when the hunger pangs kick in. I pack my bag military-style, like a mum, in the mornings: ready for every eventuality. There’s nothing worse for your diet than being hangry and surrounded by nasties from the naughty list seductively calling your name. I also ensure I’ve got my gym kit with me, for impromptu urges to work out (yes, I do actually get them these days – freak!).

8/. Reduce carbs

Starchy carbs are not your friends. Bread, pasta, potatoes, white rice – get in the sea, the lot of ya! I eat only wholegrain seeded bread (one slice as toast per day, in the morning with two scrambled eggs and maybe a small avo, a few mushrooms or tomatoes), sweet potatoes instead of regular ones, brown rice. Portion control is key: little and often works best for me.

9/. Gym/weights/classes

BodyPump is BRUTAL – but it works. Ditto Spin. I spend every minute of each class looking at the clock above the instructor’s head, willing it to be over. But when it is – oh the buzz! The rush of endorphins coupled with the smug knowledge that you’ve completed a super-tough workout and will be burning calories for the rest of the day is worth the pain. The gym is good too – I use my watch to see how many calories I’ve burned which keeps me motivated – but for fast results, the high-intensity classes are where it’s at. Plus those grim-faced gym receptionists levy a fine if you cancel one with less than 24hrs to go, so there’s no dropping out after work when you just CBA and are fantasising about lying on the sofa scratching your arse and watching a boxset whilst eating Cheerios from the box (or is that just me?).

Oh, and get some Sweaty Betty workout gear (preferably half price in the sale because it ain’t cheap). It’s the shit. If you look and feel good in your gear, you’re more likely to get it on and get shredding.

10/ Be App-y!

There are TONS of apps and YouTube videos you can work out to in the comfort of your own home, but for me the best one is FIIT (click here to get from the App Store). It has a wide variety of free workouts for varying abilities and results, and they are a manageable 25 or 40 minutes long. I squeeze in a few a week in between the gym and classes.

11/. Power to the Playlists

Soundcloud, Spotify, Mixcloud…whichever your cloud, crank it up LOUD! The faster the beat, the quicker you’ll move your fat feet, so make it techno or house music all the way, baby!

10/. Photograph your progress

As well as weighing yourself and recording the results in a notebook trainspotter-stylee, plus taking regular body measurements for inch loss, snap a few pics to track your progress. Refer back to how you looked at the start to keep you focused. I had more chins than a Chinese phonebook just a few short months ago! The comments from people will encourage you too (ignore the skinny-shamers: they’re just jel!).

11/. Get some fitspo

Have a picture of your ideal body goal saved on your phone to spur you on. These gorgeous girlies with their ripped abs are my current fitsporation. They are abs-olutely flab-less!

Ok, so if you’ve read thus far you may be thinking “Yeah, yeah…this is all obvious stuff…nothing new to see here…” Well, now for my piece de la resistance. Ladies, if you’re perimenopausal or have already gone through the change (I had a surgical menopause mid-thirties which you can read more about here ) I give you…drum roll…

12/ Tibolone

This stuff is magic, masquerading as HRT. But not just any HRT. It’s the souped-up, lowered suspension, pimped-up, boy-racer of the hormone replacement therapy world. Instead of regular HRT, which contains oestrogen and progesterone, Tibolone is converted by the body into three components: oestrogen, progesterone, and….testosterone. And therein lies the difference. It’s a game-changer. Your energy levels, sex drive and general joie de vivre will soar, your body fat will plummet and your muscle mass will increase. Get to your GP and get some pronto*. Thank me later.

So if your fitness levels are in freefall, your weight is climbing, and your grip on your wobbly bits is as loose as Britain’s Brexit plan, it’s time to take back control of your borders. Surely if bumbling Boris can become our next prime minister, you can shift a few stone?! Of course you can. Good luck!

*DISCLAIMER: I’m not a doctor. I’m not a fitness guru, a nutritionist, nor a personal trainer. I sell make-up for a living. This advice – in fact, ALL the tips here – are purely based on observations and learnings I’ve made since I began my fitness journey a few short months ago. I repeat: I am not a doctor. Everyone’s different and responds differently to different things, and Tibolone is a serious hormone-altering medication with side-effects, like any other. If you follow my plan and end up with Popeye-style biceps and a beard that would put Brian Blessed to shame, don’t come knocking at my door. Got it? Good.

Sam x

The post I’m Taking Back Control Of My Borders appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Ha! Thought that’d get your attention.

Whaddya mean, I don’t have a perfect body?! Well, maybe not quiiite yet. But I live in hope. We all do, amiright? And one way I’m going to get that ‘bikini body’ (just saying the words makes me shudder) is by drinking my breakfast, like a good girl. Yes you heard me correctly, I’m going to drink breakfast. No, no, no. Before you pack me off to rehab, I’m not talking gin and tonic in my water bottle to start the day with a smile…although that would certainly spice up my morning commute. No, I’m talking Nutribuddy: an organic blend of oats, flaxseeds, chia seeds, coconut and the flavouring of your choice. It’s gluten-free, dairy-free, lactose-free and vegan – and unlike other shakes I could mention…it’s not taste-free. It’s actually bursting with flavour. High five to that! Did I also mention that it contains no chemical nasties? None whatsoever. Well I never. Aren’t I the virtuous one all of a sudden? Just stick a halo on me and call me an angel. Or something.

Now we all know that us girls can be a little pushed for time in the mornings, eh? I mean, who has time for brekkie when there’s the important matter of transforming from The Beast into a Disney beauty in the space of half an hour or so (or is that just me)? Now, unless you can trade my makeup brushes for a magic wand, I’m gonna need allll the time and tricks of the trade in the bathroom rather than the kitchen. One peek in my house will confirm this – bathroom shelves: groaning, kitchen shelves: empty. Sure, I could skip the makeup and have breakfast…but I’d rather start the day the right way: with lipstick and mascara. Because nothing tastes as good as glamorous feels.

BUT a hungry girl is an angry girl…and so is an ugly one. So I’m going to take one minute each morning to mix three scoops of my Nutribuddy breakfast, mix with 300-400ml of milk, shake it to make it, and voila: breakfast in a flash.

You can use any kind of milk: skimmed…soya…almond is my new fave. Although I still have no idea how they milk an almond?* To be fair, I thought almonds only came in croissants until a week ago.

With Nutribuddy Breakfast I can leave the house feeling and looking my best, with no grumbling tummy that could (will!) leave me reaching for a calorific almond croissant and hot chocolate as I pass by the coffee shop (we’ve all been there – some of us more than others, granted). They know me by name at my local Starbucks, which is never a good thing when it comes to your bottom…or your bottom line (those snacks add up in both calories and money, girlfriend!)

You’ve heard the saying: “Fake it till you make it,” right? Put on your smile, hold your head high and pretend to be confident until one day you just are?

Well my new mantra is: “Shake it till you make it.” I’ll just shake the Nutribuddy in the shaker until I’ve made it (one minute)…then shake my booty until I get the confidence and the (until now) elusive bikini body (okay, this may take sliiiightly longer than a minute, but a girl’s gotta start somewhere, right?).

So I’ll be swerving the sugary morning snacks and shaking it till I make it. Will you?

Watch my Nutribuddy Breakfast vlog below to find out more… (And if you think this attempt is amateur you should see the 27 previous takes. There’s a lot of stuttering, swearing and giggles).

I have not been paid for this article, I was simply gifted the product in exchange for an honest review. I only write about products that I love and feel that my readers would be interested in too. If I don’t totally love a product rather than write a negative review I just won’t review it at all. Should you choose to follow these pink links in this post and buy from Nutribuddy I will receive 10% commission on the total purchase price, which goes towards the running costs of my blog. Thanks!

*SPOILER ALERT: Almond milk is basically made by blending almonds with water. Crazy, huh? If this blows your mind as much as it did mine, watch this. 

Anyway, I’m off to finish my shake – byeeee!

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Nutribuddy Breakfast: It’s Buddy Delicious! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

The invitation to test the Essential Teatox 14-day detox couldn’t have landed in my inbox at a better time: a few days before my eventful trip to India.

To me, this was a green light to scrap the beach yoga and instead indulge in all the calorific curries and Kingfisher beers my little pot-belly could handle, safe in the knowledge that immediately upon my return I could flip the kettle on and brew up some evil-tasting concoction that would magically melt away the evidence of my gluttony.

Now I’m not overweight – my BMI is 22 – and at almost 6ft tall I have a lot of body to fill, BUT – having turned the big (whisper it!) 4-0 this year, I’ve decided to take a bit more care of myself. Let’s face it, the only place a muffin top looks good is on a muffin. And I’d been no stranger to the M&S bakery…

So I ditched the cigs and am eating my veggies like a good girl. Unfortunately ‘smoke-free’ is not synonymous with ‘sugar-free’: my taste buds – suddenly reawakened – start twerking furiously at the prospect of a cinnamon bun. I’m no GI (Glycaemic Index) Jane; I’m more familiar with Kettle Chips than kettle bells, admittedly. But I’m getting there. Kinda. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I love a prosecco (or 3), and I’m still partial to the odd Big Mac, but Rome wasn’t built in a day (and neither was Gisele’s body).

So I was sitting on the beach in Goa, eyeing my physique appraisingly. Hmmm, hardly the stone cold fox I’d envisaged. More an urban fox. You know the ones: weathered; mangy-looking; furiously tearing open rubbish bags with their teeth in search of scraps; existing on a diet of old tea bags, sandwich crusts and discarded bacon rind…and perhaps the occasional small child if they can squeeze through an unlocked suburban cat-flap.

“You’re in shape, darling,” soothed Andy, in an attempt to rebuild my flagging body confidence. “Oh yeah,” I replied, resignedly…..”the shape of a barrel,” vowing to take action upon my return…

As soon as I squeezed (sideways) through the door when I arrived home, I tore at the packaging with my teeth (see, fox?) and scrutinised the contents. Hmmm. The teabags themselves are aesthetically pleasing: silky little pyramids; high quality. It was the contents that I was more dubious about: bits of bark and plant material. Well, it certainly looks organic, I thought. A few minutes later I took a tentative sip of my new brew…..and was pleasantly surprised. I expected rank-tasting swamp water….but it’s actually….very nice. No involuntary screwface. The licorice sweetens it nicely, and there’s no bitter aftertaste. Result!

In the evening, I steel my tastebuds for the PM blend. Again, to my surprise, it tastes fresh and sweet. The detox is simplicity itself: a tea each morning and a different blend every other evening. I made the decision not to adjust my diet or exercise regime at all for 2 reasons:

1. I don’t diet or have an exercise regime, and
2. I wanted to ensure any results were 100% down to the tea.

Over the coming days, I find myself looking forward to my Teatox. I know people are always sceptical about these things, and I was too, but I swear I saw an uplift in my energy, and my mood, within a few days. Even if this was partly the placebo effect, caused by me feeling all virtuous and thus projecting a smugly satisfied glowing aura, then surely even that’s a good thing?

The list of ingredients is impressive, all renowned for their energising and slimming properties, so I’m convinced there’s a bit more at work than my imaginary shiny halo. Judge for yourself:

The programme costs £19.99, so 95p per cup: a third of the price of my usual coffee-shop skinny hot choc with chocolate sprinkles (and yes, I’m fully aware that there’s really no such thing as a skinny hot chocolate thank-you-very-much), and leaves me feeling far more energised than the over-priced Starbucks sugar-rush that’s soon followed by a crash. The only place I lose weight with my regular beverage is my purse, as I empty all my hard-earned coins onto the counter.

As the tea tastes so good, I leave the teabag in whilst drinking to make it as strong as possible, and even find myself topping up the hot water a further few times to really get the most out of each bag. This is not in the guidelines, but I figure you may as well get maximum benefit and value from the detox, right?

A week in, and I’m feeling great. On a night out with my girlfriends I feel confident and happy in my silky dress and get a few cheesy compliments from some randoms in the pub. I’m not in the market for a new fella, but it’s nice to be appreciated nonetheless, hey?

Working in retail at Christmas time is flat-out busy, and I often resort to double-dropping Pro Plus in a desperate attempt to pep up my flagging energy levels with caffeine (since I hate coffee and you need arms like Popeye’s for the mammoth stock deliveries), but during the detox I find I’m awake before the alarm and don’t feel tired during the day at all. My sleep is better too: although I still wake up super-early, I’m not waking as much during the night.

At the end of the 2 weeks, I’m sad to see my tea supplies come to an end. I haven’t lost weight (unsurprising, considering I’ve had fast food a few times, boozy nights out with the girls and my usual sneaky snacks), yet I definitely feel less bloated, more energised, and happier overall with my figure.

Would I use Essential Teatox again? Yes – particularly before a holiday or a special occasion. Who knows, next time I may even combine it with a healthier diet and some exercise to get the maximum slink-factor. Stranger things have happened (erm, it begins with T and ends in ‘rump’).

Oh, and did I mention I’m also a Victoria’s Secret model now? Best keep schtum for the time being – it’s such a secret that even Victoria doesn’t know…

Seriously though, I’m bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and feeling fierce. So you wanna be a Stone Cold Fox?  Get Teatox 

Use code TEATOX10 for 10% off when placing your order.
For a chance to try the 14-day Teatox for FREE,  enter my competition here.*

UPDATE: This competition is now closed and the winner has been chosen at random. Congratulations to Kirsten Hyde – your Teatox is winging it’s way to you!

Find more opinions and reviews on Essential Teatox via Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.

*Competition T&Cs:

– the competition will run from Monday 5th December until 11.59pm on 30th December GMT.
– entrants must be UK residents aged 18 and over.
– all entries to be completed using the Rafflecopter link above.
– all entries will be checked and verified.
– the winner will be chosen at random from all valid entries.
– the winner will be announced by the 5th Jan (emailed as well as via social media and as a blog update).
– the winner will have 72hrs to respond with their details, otherwise a new winner will be picked following the same procedure.

Thanks for entering – good luck!

Sam x

Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Wanna be a Stone Cold Fox? Get Teatox! appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Working in the beauty industry in London in the late nineties and early noughties was a close-knit, glamorous affair. I use the word ‘affair’ partly because the relationship between employer and employee tended to be a short-lived love story: we fell in love with a brand, threw ourselves wholeheartedly into selling their wares, then like the fickle young things we were, we’d soon fall out of love and move onto the next exciting company in the department store’s beauty hall. Thus grew this incestuous community of bouffanted babes, where everyone knew everyone and it wasn’t uncommon to see the same faces work their way from one counter to the next over the course of a few years, each time building up their contacts book, boosting their CVs and getting a change of scene and a cheeky pay increase into the bargain.Dickens and Jones, Harvey Nicks, Barkers of Kensington – we touted our make-up skills and fragrance knowledge around them all, but my favourite of the lot was Selfridges. A hip and bustling cosmetic hall crammed with carefully-coiffed glossy young consultants, we’d have to shout above the pounding beats of the music, different tunes coming from various counters in a kind of controlled chaos: tall, slender model-esque reps offering fragrance strips doused in the latest heady scents to passing shoppers, make-up artists applying red lips here, brushing on mascara there; it was a veritable beauty playground set against a house music backdrop as DJs spun tunes in the neighbouring Spirit fashion section. The social scene that came with working with hundreds of like-minded young people was as buzzing as the atmosphere in the store itself, and club promoters came by on a daily basis handing out passes for free entry or discounted drinks at all the hippest clubs. My fellow beauty buddies and I fell into a familiar pattern: selling high-end beauty products by day, partying at night.

One particular party-loving pal of mine was Lorraine (Lolly) Mack – a 30 year old effervescent blonde bombshell, whose larger-than-life personality and striking looks earned her notoriety on the beauty and clubbing circuits. Being blessed with a banging bod meant she’d also done a spot of glamour modelling and had appeared in various publications such as FHM and The Sun as well as a TV show on Sky1.

One night in March 2004, I’d been invited to Pacha nightclub in Victoria by a friend of mine, so Lolly and I decided to make a night of it and take our respective beaus along too – I was engaged to Liam, and Lorraine had an Italian boyfriend who was over for the weekend. Lolly was tired on the day and considered dropping out, but after a few drinks in Islington we were all buzzing off each other’s energy (and possibly a few cheeky shots) and in high spirits took a taxi to the club. What happened next changed Lorraine’s life forever.

Laughing and joking, we bantered with the bouncers before being ushered into the blackness of the club, our bodies reverberating from the heavy bass of the music. We queued for the cloakroom, bought drinks at the bar, then Liam and I left Lolly and her boyfriend near the bar whilst we nipped upstairs to find the rest of our mates.

Unbeknownst to us as we passed by the crowds on the balcony above, a heavily-built young guy (who was high on drink and drugs) was about to come over the balcony into the crowd of tightly-packed revellers below……landing directly onto Lorraine.
Instantly, her spinal cord was severed at the fourth vertebrae from the top, rendering her immediately quadriplegic. In that split-second her life, as she knew it, was over.

When Liam and I came back downstairs a few minutes later we saw a commotion and a crowd gathered around someone on the floor. Everything went into slow motion as it dawned on us that it was our friend, and that she wasn’t moving. We fought through the crowd, shouting over the music, pleading with her to get up. But it was no use. She knew instantly what had happened, that she was paralysed. All she could do was blink helplessly. We raced to hospital where Lorraine had emergency surgery involving taking bone from her hip and putting it into her neck to secure it.

When your phone rings in the middle of the night it’s often accompanied with a sense of dread, and as we sat alongside her Mum and two elder brothers Tony and Gary in the waiting room we were all numb with shock, unable to take in the enormity of the fate that had befallen our Lolly.

When we set off for a night’s clubbing, none of us could have known that Lorraine would not return home for the next 10 months, those long dark days spent instead at the specialist spinal hospital Stoke Mandeville, surrounded by other patients for whom life had also dealt a terrible hand.  One such patient who became a friend to Lorraine was Dan Nicholls, an 18-year-old boy paralysed by a freak wave whilst enjoying a day at Bondai Beach, whose father would later go on to set up The Nicholls Spinal Injury Foundation.

During those unspeakably tough early days of her injury Lorraine’s thoughts were dark, even asking her brothers to take her to the Dignitas Clinic in Zurich to end her life. It was during this period that her brother Tony started researching possible treatments online, desperate to help his beloved sister.

“We can give up, Lorraine, or we can fight this together until we find a cure and get you walking again.”

This marked the turning point, and since then Lolly and her family have campaigned tirelessly to raise funds towards finding a cure. Despite being paralysed from the neck down, Lorraine still endured constant chronic pain all over her body in the form of burning pins and needles, and needed a cocktail of 18 different drugs each day which left her bloated and did little to alleviate her daily agony.

Twelve years on, and today Lorraine is a beacon of hope in an otherwise bleak prognosis. Despite doctors telling her early on that she’d never move again she cranks up the dance music, flips on her disco lights and undergoes four gruelling hours of intense physiotherapy each day with the help of her carers, and consequently has some movement in both arms. Although she is unable to grip with her hands, she can use her phone, laptop and has even learnt to apply her own make-up again. She retains her love of fashion, music, modelling and travelling the world, and her treatment and quest for a cure have led her as far afield as Miami, LA, Italy and Brazil.

Her relationship with her boyfriend came to an end, but now she’s found true love in the form of a 29 year old LA-based hunk, to whom she’s been engaged for a year after meeting at a mutual friend’s house two years ago.

The man who landed on Lorraine was given a two year sentence, but Lolly doesn’t dwell on the facts of the night, instead remaining focused on her mission to walk again.

She is now completely drug-free, having gone cold turkey from all the meds after ten years, a feat which impressed ex-addict Russell Brand when she bumped into him in her local, causing him to remark that that was probably more difficult than stopping his well-documented heroin use. The bloating caused by the medication disappeared, taking her back to a slinky size eight and today she is as strikingly attractive as ever – her slim figure in contrast to her huge personality, raucous laughter and Barbara Windsor-style cheeky cockney character.

She’s done a tandem skydive which raised £3k for Spinal Research, completed countless ‘virtual cycles’ for SCI (Spinal Cord Injury) charities including a whopping 285 miles London to Paris bike ride with the aid of her FES (Functional Electrical Stimulation) bike, and is currently about to take part in the WFL (Wings For Life)  World Run in Milan, which her brother Tony will be running whilst pushing her in her wheelchair. She’ll be dressed in a pink ensemble complete with wings alongside her four Italian fellow ‘Cure Girls’ – a group of fiesty women from around the world, all of whom have suffered a spinal cord injury and are therefore campaigning to raise awareness and money for SCI charities.

Lorraine fundraises continuously for various charities including Spinal Research and The Nicholls Spinal Injury Foundation. These charities receive zero government funding despite around 40,000 people currently living with paralysis in the UK at a cost of £1billion a year, and help fund vital research. For the first time in history scientists have recorded the reconnection of severed long spinal nerve fibres by using the patient’s own stem cells to create a “bridge” over which the damaged connections can grow back, resulting in one paralysed man being able to take his first tentative steps.

When I think back to that fateful night in 2004, my heart lurches when I picture the pair of giggling carefree girls who entered the club and the tragic events that led to only one of us walking out of there again.

The very definition of girl power, I’m filled with admiration for my pal, who overcomes adversity and chronic neuropathic pain on a daily basis in her steely determination to walk again. She remains bubbly and positive, despite losing ten friends over the years as a result of their SCI – either through suicide or health complications relating to their injuries. (Don’t be fooled by the glamorous shots – her own list of ailments is extensive, from bladder infections, to scoliosis, osteoporosis and pressure sores).

I’m sure you’ll agree that her mental and physical strength and stamina make Lolly Mack a true inspiration, and if anyone can get back on the dancefloor, it’s her.

You can visit Lolly’s blog at www.curegirls.wordpress.com, sponsor her at www.justgiving.com/lorrainemack or visit her website www.lollymack.com. See www.spinal-research.org and www.nsif.org.uk for more details on SCI, the research taking place and how you can help. Photography by Michelle George, www.michellegeorgephotography.com

This article has also appeared at Huffington Post UK.

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Return of the Mack appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.

Okay, so I may know my way around a countour palette and own more cosmetics than Estee Lauder herself, but when it comes to being catwalk-ready from the neck down – forget it!

Now there are some girls who have a body for Baywatch, face for Crimewatch. What’s the use in bursting a blood vessel at the gym if you’ve got a face like a bag o’ spanners? No, get your hair and make-up runway-ready and to hell with the fitness regime. It’s not called a ‘regime’ for nothing. I don’t recall Hitler’s one being a barrel of laughs either. Life’s for living, not pouting into your phone like a constipated duck whilst ‘working out’ for the camera. I can’t work that out.

Seeing as the majority of people only chat to the bit above your chin (or chins, in my  case – I blame constantly looking down at my phone) – why bother slogging your guts out on your glutes, especially if you’ve got a permanent case of resting bitch face. Don’t sweat it – just smile occasionally! I know exercise releases endorphins, but so does biting into a quarter-pounder with cheese.

I wouldn’t say I was a total lard-arse, but fitness model material I certainly ain’t. These days we’re under increasing pressure to pump iron, our newsfeeds clogged up with skinny, tanned superfit bods, their proud owner beaming smugly from your phone as you tuck into your hummous dip….accompanied with a family-sized bag of Doritos. Or should I say DOH-ritos! I must remember to replace those with a carrot next time. Oh well.

Far from springing off the sofa and nipping out for a quick 5k’s, I’m more likely to flip my phone over and reach for the sharing-size Salt and Vinegar Kettle Chips in defiance. My Sainsbury’s delivery dude probably thinks I’ve got 6 kids with all these ‘family fun-packs.’

“Prep Like a Boss!” is The Body Coach’s strapline, gesturing to row upon boring row of sterile Tupperware boxes stuffed with various gut-churning greens. Oh, I prep like a boss alright mate….the boss of a chip shop.

Of course, I don’t want to be a blubbery old bird. I’ve hit the gym….instructor. Well he was a smarmy git anyway….and it WAS an accident (I got a tad over-zealous with my free weights.)

Having a fit younger boyfriend is not without it’s pitfalls either – Andy goes to BodyPump regularly and in a moment of madness I agreed to go to a couple of classes, see what all the fuss was about. Within minutes my eyes were bulging, teeth clenched as I strained to lift the weights above my head. I glanced casually around to check no-one was watching….and realised that everyone else had weights the size of manhole covers on each side, bar bending in the middle, whilst my spindly arms struggled with my piddly 3kg jobbies. The shame!

As I collapsed in a cardiac emergency I vowed to work out in the privacy of my own home in future. I bought a set of dumbells. They’re working. Every time I trip over them they remind me how dumb I am. Andy suggested we take up running. So far the only running I seem to be doing is running out of money before the end of the month.

Then there’s the diet. How anyone can drink those bile-inducing protein shakes is beyond me. I’d rather lick the bottom of a birdcage. Being hangry is no fun for anyone.

If God didn’t want us to eat his cute animals why did he make them so goddamn tasty?

I know vegetarians preach about ‘not eating anything with a face’ but someone should remind them that even potatoes have eyes. How do you know if someone’s a veggie? Oh don’t worry, they’ll fecking tell you!

Too much red meat is bad for you, I get that. It’s not great for the cow, either. I have a weakness for sweet n’ sour spare ribs, but who said they were spare? Not the pig, that’s for sure.

Fruit and veg may be good for you, no-one’s disputing that, but when was the last time you salivated over a salad, eh? Thought not. You’d never walk in at an inopportune moment to find your fella ogling a naked fruit salad on the Lad Bible site, would you now? But stick a big flappy kebab on his Food Porn feed and he’s definitely perking up….

We all know a muffin top is unbecoming on anything other than, well, a muffin, but if you dress well ( ie shoehorned into Spanx in XXS) then at least your dietary misdemeanors can be pretty much concealed. Until, that is, you peel off your layers to reveal what looks like a cheap Iceland sausage bursting out of it’s skin. Then it may be time to reign in the nightly gallon-drum of Chenin Blanc and invest in a padlock for the biscuit tin.

As Kate Moss  famously once  said….

“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.”

She’s obviously never tasted my local Indian’s creamy kormas.

As soon as my jeans start to pinch, I resort to my tried-and-tested exercise regime…I go on a clubbing binge. Nothing snaps that waist into shape and planes inches off those hips faster than a weekend’s raving, dancing furiously to house and techno tunage at any one of London town’s myriad of hip haunts. Eager to keep up with my younger counterparts I dance Duracell-stylee all night long, the only calories passing my lips coming from the odd chewing gum or an energy-boosting vodka Red Bull, sweat pouring down my ruddy face. Sexy.

Come Monday, I may have bags under my eyes, but the ones on my butt have miraculously disappeared. Result!

Obviously being slim is no guarantee of health either. There’s someone I see on my commute with a figure that’d make Elle ‘The Body’ Macpherson green with envy, but then she opens her mouth to reveal a set of Swiss-army teeth: rotten stumps and jagged bits all over the gaff. It’s like a row of bombed-out houses. Yikes!

Whilst I’ve always considered working in a job that involves being on my feet for at least eight hours a day to be a disadvantage, now I credit all the running about after my customers with the fact that I’m not getting mistaken for Gemma Collins just yet. And seeing as I won’t be able to afford to retire until around five years after I die then I should be fine. I’ll probably reach my target weight round about the same time.

And as for the wrinkles appearing round my eyes, well of course Botox has entered my head….but I only have to take one look at Amanda Holden’s expressionless waxwork mug and I decide to leave well alone (for now). I do have a few mates with foreheads as suspiciously smooth as hard-boiled eggs….but if I’ve got the hump I want people to know about it, ya get me?

So there you have it. If you get a buzz out of busting a gut at some hernia-inducing class at the gym then good for you.

Me? I’ll stick to bustin’ moves instead…

Sam x


Fancy reading my back-story before you go any further? You can find my other blogs at:

www.costaricachica1.blogspot.com
www.samgoessolo.blogspot.com
www.mummymission.blogspot.com
www.worldwidewalsh.blogspot.com

Follow me:

Twitter: @SamanthaWalsh76 (Life:ABird’sEyeView)
Facebook: @lifeabirdseyeview
Instagram: @lifeabirdseyeview

The post Mind the (Thigh) Gap appeared first on Life: A Birds Eye View.