Hen a couple of guys at the gym suggested last year that I train for a bodybuilding competition, I laughed. I was 48 years old. It was ridiculous.
Of course, I had to do it. I couldn't walk away from such a challenge. To give up without trying would have been self-defeating.
I hired a trainer, Vicki, a tough young woman. We talked about a schedule and a diet. "Nutrition is 90 per cent of bodybuilding" is a bodybuilder's mantra.
I told Vicki I liked to put a little bit of sugar in my herbal tea. She looked at me as if I was Amy Winehouse off rehab. No more sugar in my tea. Eventually, no more tea. Or salt. Or alcohol. Nothing canned or processed. No carbohydrates after lunchtime, other than vegetables or small amounts of fruit. I kind of liked the diet, so that wasn't a huge problem.
What really concerned me was my missing left breast, lost to cancer when I was 40. I wear a small, soft prosthesis on the street, but at the gym I am just me. One of the things I love about the gym is that I feel completely at ease there, such as I am. And completely accepted. But to stand on a stage in a minuscule bikini for the bodybuilding competition was a daunting prospect.