Low Key Cult 003: The Weighted Training Vest

And the ‘croissant body plan’ or, How I Lost 4 Kilos While Eating My Way Through The South Of France and Wearing My Child as a Fitness Accessory

Some women find religion in Pilates and dry brushing. Others in Mathematics. I found it in a weighted training vest. The kind with glow-in-the-dark strap piping. And sandbags. The one that almost gets you arrested (if large and black and paired with a visage-obscuring baseball cap) at school dropoff. Here’s how the obsession started:

The year: Toddler. The destination: Eygalieres, South of France. Every morning for a month, at 7 am, I’d hoist my son into one of those kid backpacks (sun visor fully-activated, of course) all 8 kilos of his adorable, unhelpful and uncompromising mass, and I’d hike a mile up the hill to the local boulangerie to get breakfast supplies (croissants, pain au chocolats, escargots raisins). It was a proper incline. Punishing on the calves.

Once arrived, all sweaty-haired and panting, I was the least chic person in Chez Pain, but given every meal in summertime France ends with a tub of runny St Felicien on a baguette and is preceded by a lot of other things in butter, the early morning workout was a non-negotiable.

I lost four kilos in two weeks.

The only logical conclusion. That child-weighted vest on an incline, was some kind of glute-activating metabolism-boosting magic. And I have been chasing that same high ever since. Trying to recreate the magic. Kind of like Goldilocks, but with less porridge and more Velcro. Of course, I have tested several vests over the years.

My first one, post-holiday - which I wore on the kindergarten school run – was oversized, black, adjustable, with pockets for more-or-less sandbags, and made me look like I was heading out to disarm an explosive – just with a Thomas the Tank Engine backpack in tow. Note: Alarmed other school moms, not recommended.

Another was so lightweight, it offered about the same resistance as a cotton hoodie loaded with say, your house keys and a granola bar. I donated it to someone who weighed approximately the same as a Le Creuset saucepan. (It changed her life. You’re welcome, Jo.)

I am currently pretty happy with a camo-green number of reasonable volume, that’s giving ‘paramilitary on suburban reconaissance’. It’s chic-enough, 10 kilos, and does the job. I do a one-hour loop in it a few times a week, try to incorporate a hill and by the time I get home, my bones feel denser, my thighs feel smug and my concerns about being taken over by AI robots have waned a little because I am too tired to care. Also, my abs feel like they may again be on the brink of existence and I’m convinced it’s helping with cellulite. (And I know that’s not a peer-reviewed scientific claim but then neither are horoscopes but they’re the first thing a lot of people turn to in the morning after solving Wordle.)

There’s a reason this qualifies as Low-Key Cult 003.

It’s efficient. Brutal. Just absurd enough. And it works. You look like you’re preparing for an invasion, when what you’re actually doing is building bone mass, activating your core while ordering an oat milk decaf latte at your corner deli.

IMPORTANT: IF YOU’RE GOING TO GET ONE, BUILD UP TO IT

· Do NOT think you are cardio-superior because you once ran a half marathon in 2012 and decide to “just do a quick 10K in it”. You will pay.

· Increase time spent and resistance like an adult. This is not a Marvel audition. There is little to gain by going ‘all out’. Start with the lightest one you can find, then donate it, and upgrade.

· Avoid paring it with a black baseball cap unless you want to have to explain yourself to strangers several times a week.

· But mostly, enjoy it. The endorphins. The efficiency. The calorie-burn.

Shopping? I got mine on Amazon. But you can buy them at Decathlon. Or just Google ‘weighted training vest for women’ and pick the lightest one in your favourite (non-UnaBomber) colour.

Welcome to the cult. Honestly, you’ll love it.