So, I’m pretty lucky, in that I’m one of those hateful long and thin ectomorph types, so even when I’m heavy by my standards, I never look very chubby. My jeans are less forgiving, of course.
So, they don’t tell you you’re bound to gain weight, although, to be fair, I might have guessed that for myself. My arms looked amazing at the end of six months in plaster. I don’t think I’ve ever had biceps before! But the rest of me had gone a bit soggy in the middle. And it didn’t stop the moment I became bipedal, of course. Because I still had the Herr Flick limp and kitten-like weakness meaning every few steps was punctuated with a nice sit-down and a cup of tea.
I didn’t dare to weigh myself with the cast on, but post cast-removal I was a rather distressing 18-odd pounds heavier than before. And I don’t put on weight too easily. So I dread to think how others may have fared. Then came Christmas. Having committed myself to a dancing and singing part in Oh What A Lovely War with my beloved Wivenhoe Gilbert & Sullivan society, that was a problem. Not only would I need to get flexible enough to give at least a passing impression of being an Edwardian ballerina, but I’d also need to lose at least a bit of that weight to get into any of my clothes.
Long story short, I made it on both counts, stretching every day and doing all my physio exercises (plus a few I made up to get that ankle moving again after six months of atrophy), and even managed the ridiculously quick change into my tutu…
So, all’s well that ends well, but it wasn’t easy. However, if I hadn’t pushed myself so hard, would I still be sitting down a lot and wussing out of country walks? Who knows. Goals are great… but you do have to be kind to yourself too!
Even though my leg-related drama is pretty much at an end (I sincerely hope!), I’m determined to continue this blog, and give more useful information for all of you only at the beginning of yours. We flamingos need to flock together! x