20/09/2013 09:27 BST | Updated 20/11/2013 05:12 GMT

What Would Miranda Kerr Do? An Experiment in Self-improvement - Week Two

In an attempt to find out whether healthy living is all it's cracked up to be, I'm switching wine and pizza for green juice and lentils for a month, along with a whole lot of yoga, exercise, meditation and general mind, body and soul feeding. It's week two, and I'm getting the hang of this. Almost.


I think I'm having a breakthrough! At my yoga class I actually feel strong, as opposed to feeling like I might die at any point, and wondering if it's over yet. I even get a few 'well done's from the teacher. I am yoga teacher's pet! If it was socially acceptable to high-five myself, I would. I should be all serene and realise that it's not a competition, but I have a fair way to go before I achieve true Miranda Nirvana. For a start, I need to stop singing the Yogi Bear theme tune in my head every time the teacher says 'Good Morning Yogis'. But hey - one step at a time.


Forget everything I said yesterday. Today will henceforth be referred to as 'The Day of Rage'. I am furious with everything. I am furious with my dinner for not being a pizza. I am furious with my body for being so damn tired all the time instead of doing a constant 'I am healthy' dance. I am furious with the juicer for being so b*****y impossible to clean. I am furious with Mary Berry for constantly being on the telly talking about cake. But most of all, I am furious with Paddy, who crashes through the door and announces that he's REALLY excited about his dinner, before unpacking a steak the size of my left butt cheek and frying it in half a tub of butter. I storm off to bed. I bet Miranda doesn't have to put up with this s**t.


I manage to rebalance myself after yesterday's, erm, incident, and take a moment to feel vaguely impressed with myself that I haven't just sacked the whole thing off after two days. I don't think anyone, least of all me, thought I would last this long. Despite the fact that I've been *a little* up and down for the last couple of days, I am finally starting to feel some benefits. I think the simplest way of putting it is that I feel stronger - a bit more capable of facing the world.

I think the key to my success so far is that I'm very much focussing on health, as opposed to weight loss. When you're trying to lose weight there are all kinds of feelings of hunger and guilt that follow you everywhere, not to mention all the 'low fat' ready meals, yoghurts, drinks etc that are actually full of rubbish. I think focussing on whether or not something is good for you is a much more positive way of looking at it and makes you more likely to stick with it.


I didn't sleep well last night and keep falling asleep on the guy next to me on the way into work. He thinks it's funny the first five times. By the time I get to the office, my entire body is screaming 'COFFEEEEEEE! GET SOME COFFEE! GIVE IT TO ME! GIVE ME COFFEE, OR I WILL STOP FUNCTIONING'. I've relied on the latte solution for so long that today seems genuinely impossible without it, and I struggle through the day before falling asleep again on the train home. Thankfully not next to the same person.


Today I am faced with what is possibly the epitome of the first world problem - my personal trainer is in Vegas. This means I have to be my own personal trainer for the day. I feel good about this. I quickly learn that doing squats, burpees etc in the park when not accompanied by a personal trainer makes you look like a mental person. I revert to a jog, which subsides into a power walk, which drifts into more of a pootle. I stop to look at some squirrels. Aren't they funny? Maybe I should sit down so I can see them better. I drink my water, chill out and am home and in the shower before I realise I got more exercise last week running for the train in heels. This is why I need a personal trainer.


A much quieter weekend than last week means a much easier time for me. I'm still struggling massively with exercising at the weekends - there's just this constant voice in my head shouting 'WHY ARE YOU NOT ON THE SOFA? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?' I do some half-hearted yoga on the bedroom floor, half of which turns into an extended meditation (snooze).

A trip to the supermarket proves that Paddy has yet to entirely get his head around this experiment. 'So we can have chicken and chips for supper?' 'I can't have chips.' 'What about oven chips? Roast potatoes?'


Sunday Lunch, my regular nemesis, rises again. With what can only be described as a herculean effort, I eat a plate of fish and vegetables, surrounded by three roasts and the world's biggest Scotch egg. I've chosen my lunch buddies well this week though, as Sarah, chef supreme, is full of ideas for new, tasty things I can cook. This couldn't come at a better time, as one of my main problems at the moment is boredom, along with a fast-growing hatred of soup. I end the week daydreaming about morphing into some kind of lithe yoga queen who also wins Masterchef. I am also, admittedly, full of energy and actually feeling ready for the week ahead. Bring it on.