Название: The 21 Day Blast Plan: Lose weight, lose inches, gain strength and reboot your body
Автор: Annie Deadman
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Здоровье
isbn: 9780008259266
isbn:
Red Lentil and Coriander Relish
Spinach with Caramelised Onion and Sumac
Snack and Gap-Filler One-Liners
Easy Peanut Butter and Banana Clusters
Apple, Cardamom and Ginger Muffins
Snack and Gap Filler One-Liners
Getting fit, firm & strong . . . and maybe a bit sweaty
Chapter 9: An Understanding of Exercise
The Exercises – How To Do Them
Chapter 10: Frequently Asked Questions
Chapter 11: Day-by-Day Motivation
Chapter 12: Adapting Blast to Everyday Life
My name is Annie Deadman and I’m the extremely proud creator of The 21 Day Blast plan, a three-week healthy-eating and fitness programme that, in a nutshell, kicks your sweet tooth into touch, calms your gut and leaves you with less fat and firmer muscles.
Just so you know, I’m not some fake who went ‘on a diet’ once, found it worked and decided to flog it the masses. I have for the last fifteen years or so been running Annie Deadman Training, which provides fitness-training sessions, personal training and Pilates courses to the local community in southwest London.
I am in my fifties, have two gorgeous daughters in their twenties, a team of bossy instructors and a studio where people come and go all day long, for personal training sessions.
As a child, I was chubby. As a teenager, chubby turned into overweight with a dash of geeky and shy – the future in terms of mixing with the opposite sex wasn’t looking bright. So I ditched the short skirts, flexed what little muscle I had and threw myself into schoolwork. PE, it turned out, wasn’t one of my favourites and I, like most of the other self-conscious girls, skived off as often as I could.
At university, everyone around me seemed to be on a diet of fags . . . or just on a diet. Inevitably I joined in. I turned to starvation as a means of losing weight and life became all bran flakes and cottage cheese. I was hungry all the time and I never once thought about my health or, heaven forbid, about exercise. I emerged from university, found a job in London and yo-yo dieted my way through the next five years.
It was only when I got married and had my first child at the age of thirty-two that things changed again. High interest rates, two recessions and a colossal mortgage meant my husband and I worked long and different hours and hardly ever ate together. As if the whole full-time working-mother thing wasn’t enough, I was also facing something very like single parenthood and it started to leave its mark on my body. What had been an average OK-ish figure was now punctuated by wodges of unbecoming fat. My self-esteem plummeted at the same rate as my waistline expanded. I was in my early thirties but I felt dumpy and frumpy. Something had to be done.
After a particularly sticky weight-related conversation with my GP one day, I gave myself a talking-to and decided that I couldn’t put it off any longer. I had to do some exercise. As an exercise virgin, the obvious first step was running. So off I went . . . not very far. Or very fast! But it was hideous. I got hot and it hurt and I felt uncomfortable. My second bite of the exercise cherry was more successful when I joined a local conditioning class and I started to use my muscles in a controlled way. It was actually rather pleasant, which meant I stuck to it, and very soon I started to see results. I firmed up and gained СКАЧАТЬ