Time to Make the Donuts

I told hubby that I was going to take Body Pump at 6AM.  We both laughed like we had just heard the funniest joke ever.  To say I am NOT a morning person is an extreme understatement.  My snooze button on my alarm clock no longer works because I literally wore it out.  I don’t even like to speak in the morning, let alone exercise.  Even I knew the chances of my dragging myself out of bed was not good. 

I set my alarm clock for 5:30 anyway.   I set the alarm on my phone for 5:40 (snooze button outwitted) and made the ring tone the theme song from Rocky.  EPIC wake up call!  Who can possibly stay in bed with that playing?

MegHan was the instructor.  I walked in and there were actually weights and stuff out.  It was 6:00 IN THE MORNING and there was actual equipment out, like we were ACTUALLY going to exercise. 

I took out my handy, dandy Buck Rogers secret decoder ring to check the message again. 

I could have sworn it said: 

M-e-e-t <space>

M-e-g-h-a-n <space>

f-o-r <space>

o-v-a-l-t-i-n-e <space>

<end message>

The stupid thing must be busted!

Well…

I was up…

I was there…

Meg could surely catch me before I hit the door…

I got all of the junk I needed to engage in 6 AM Body Pump.

We got to the part where Meg suggests adding more weight to work the legs.  When I took my first class, my friend warned me NOT to do that.  This time, she wasn’t there.  I thought I was sassy since I’ve been working out for 5 minutes, so I added weight.  Stop laughing – that part isn’t supposed to be funny.

At the end of Body Pump, MegHan announced that CXWORX was up next. 

We could leave at any time…

I had to go to work.  If anyone else would have left the room, I probably would have bailed too.  I'm such a follower.  But then that new voice that just joined the party in my head, the one that enjoys the torture exercise, reminded me that there were several ways I could shave 30 minutes off of getting ready work.  (I skipped makeup and hung my head out the window to dry my hair on the way.  I looked like a poodle that had just gone through electroshock therapy when I showed up for work but who cares? I work out.)

During the CXWORX, the girl next to me whispered, “She’s crazy.” 

MegHan has ninja ears.  She said, “I’m not crazy!”  

Let’s evaluate this statement, shall we?  Meg doesn’t think she’s crazy, but let’s review the facts:

·         CXWORX is 30 minutes of intense core training.

·         We had just finished 30 minutes of Body Pump. 

·         It’s 6:00 IN THE MORNING.  

·         MegHan is the only one in the room still smiling. 

I think it’s safe to say that she is indeed seven courses of crazy, with a side of cuckoo, and a cherry on top, but I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell her (to her face). 

There are a couple of parts of the CXWORX that trip me up a little.  First, you use exercise bands.  I’m always afraid the band is going to come loose from my foot and slap me in the face.  I’ve seen it happen in my head 1,000 times and I’m sure it’s going to go live one day.  Hopefully someone will catch it on film and I'll post it here for your viewing pleasure.

Second, there are these sideways c-crunch things.  Meg told us to sit on the “meaty part” of the side of our butts, and hold our legs together, up in the air.   The top half of your body is supposed to be sort of straight and pretty like you’re ready for tea.  (Or the coffee I thought I was going to get)  Since I’m pretty meaty all around and was getting tired, I just laid there, hoping she wouldn’t notice that I had nothing in the air.

MegHan does not have a snooze button.  She doesn't miss a whisper in her class and she's certainly not going to ignore you taking a nap in the front row.

All kidding aside, I left feeling great!  I was tired and it was hard work, but I had a good workout and it wasn’t even 8AM.  AWESOME!

I felt amazing until around 10:30, when my legs woke up and realized they had been assaulted in their sleep.  Then I had some explaining to do.

A Poem...

Tomorrow is Bad Poetry Day. I will be making my family write bad poems to share at dinner. I decided to get an early start by writing a poem to my fat.

A Poem to My Fat…

How do I lose thee? Let me count the ways.

I lose thee in Body Combat where I reach a new height,
My sweat pours down…Meg & Cara are outta sight!

They are tough and mean but full of grace,
Not gonna lie, sometimes I wanna punch them in the face!

But after the last round, my outlook is sunny,
Though they scare me enough to give them my milk money.

I lose thee purely, as I turn away from junk,
I just washed my workout clothes – man they really stunk!

In my old griefs, to food I always would turn.
Get out of my way Cookie, I’ve got calories to burn!

Armed with ibuprofen and new friends at the Rave
I’ve got a long way to go, but I’m feeling really brave!

Lydia and Franchesca in Body Jam they stir
With their hair hanging down, so they’re more sexier!

They play the music and do The Hustle
Beat it FAT – I’m replacing you with MUSCLE!

I Got Moves Like Jagger

If Jagger had vertigo and busted knee caps...

“Let’s do Body Jam”, they said. “It’ll be FUN”, they said. “It’s EASY”, they said. They are apparently decent dancers…and dirty rotten liars.

We walked into the class and I quickly found my spot in the back of the room.

In walks bounces this tiny ball of cuteness.

I hate her.

I’m pretty sure her body fat is in the negative numbers.

I hate her.

Her half-shirt revealed a belly that I’m guessing is probably harder than my forehead. 

I hate her. 

She walks bounces along flashing a smile and chatting with everyone in the room.

I want to hate her, but she’s not doing anything wrong other than being cute.  I decided that in an effort to compromise with myself, I’d hate her from the chin down. My inner child sneaks in the observation that Ball of Cuteness only has ONE chin. I tell her to shut up.

Let’s get this party started…

Enter Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan looked like Fitness Barbie. She was decked out in pink with a high pony tail and she was giving off more energy than the sun! When Obi-Wan turned around, I noticed PINK written across her backside. I’m pretty sure if I put on a pair of those pants at this point, ‘PINK’ would only cover a very small portion of the canvas that is currently my a$$. Nope, ‘PINK’ would not do the trick. Mine would have to say COTTON CANDY or…

HOT MAGENTA

I decided at that moment that I WILL wear pink on my butt at least once before I am 40. Pink WILL cover my butt nicely. It won't be all stretched out or begging for back up letters. GOAL SET.

Obi-Wan took the stage. Ball of Cuteness joined her. There was a line of ladies in the front row who knew exactly what they were doing. We’ll call them the Solid Gold Dancers. (Anyone remember that show?) 

The music started...

Side to side...sway, step - not bad!

COMBO!

Wait, WHAT?

It was not pretty.

My arms and legs are NOT on the same operating system. I’d get the legs down then they’d add some arm combo. Solid Gold dancers were on it, I was just flailing around. I looked like I was drowning on dry land. 

Every time I thought I had it, sneaky Obi-Wan would add another move. She’d ask us if we wanted to add it first, but she was just pretending to care about my feelings to cover the fact that she was a fitness predator. I kept saying NO. No means NO to most people.

My no meant NOTHING to Obi-Wan!

I felt so violated by her fitness. To make matters worse, she and the BOC (ball of cuteness) were smiling the whole time! Do you know how hard it is to watch someone smile when they make you feel like you are going to die a painful, awkward, uncoordinated death?

They added a plies; I plowed. They added some strange arm-led spinny thingy dingy; I looked like one of those windup toys that has to run into something before it turns. There was one kind soul in the back who took pity on me. God love her, she tried to help me get it right. She even acted humble like she wasn’t nailing it. She was – she rocked it – but she wasn’t judging me for not. She was encouraging me to stick with it even after I almost poked her in the eye. She was like my Body Jam BF.

Obi-Wan kept telling us how sexy we looked. Ba ha ha ha. Don’t get me wrong – She, along with the BOC and the Solid Gold Dancers all looked fabulous. Maybe she couldn’t see us jiggling about in the back of the room. 

But she must have seen us because whenever I was feeling like I needed to stop, she’d throw out something encouraging like, “Don’t quit!”, “You’re changing your body!” and “You can have ice cream if you finish!” (Just kidding on that last one…she didn’t really say that) It is amazing how much I love these instructors the minute they say we are finished, after loathing them for the prior hour.

Let me throw in this little advertisement - if any of you are looking for some workout mojo, slide by the Fitness Rave. Their instructors will make you hate them and love them at the same time. They work your body but speak to your heart. The music choices are great and it is pretty cool that the instructors take each other’s classes. I am griping and complaining but it is all in fun. The bottom line is that I keep going back, which says A LOT. Who knows?  I've been listening to my NO for far too long - maybe if I stop listening to my 'NO' like Obi-Wan, I'll be a Solid Gold Dancer one day too!

This journey I have started is NOT easy, but I love every minute of it. I deserve to be healthy and I won’t accept anything less from myself. It’s amazing what happens when you stop beating yourself up for not being thin and decide that you are worthy of being fit. 

Stay tuned…

*Just to clarify - I don't think it would be humanly possible to hate either of these women, unless you are jealous of them, which I totally am. :p

Body Jam take two – they took out the tootsie roll – I was so glad because my tootsie does NOT roll!

My apologies - apparently it's the BUTTERFLY, NOT the tootsie roll.  My butter doesn't fly any more than my tootsie rolls, but I want to make sure I use the proper 90's dance lingo. :)

xoxo

Zumba Took Away My Secret Identity

My secret identity has been revealed.

I showed up for Zumba with the Bouncy Ball of Cuteness.  My step daughter, herein after known as SD for Super Daughter, and her mom, hereinafter known as PW for Practice Wife were with me.  Yes, we are friends.  For those of you who have step-children, it is possible, it is best for your kids and it is loads of fun. 

Nothing keeps hubby on his toes like knowing you could join alliances with his ex-wife at any moment.  Wonder Wife Powers ACTIVATE – FORM OF – 2 ex-wives with the SAME ATTORNEY! 

Just kidding…

I would never use her attorney…

He wasn't very good.

PW and SD took their places in the front row.  PW likes being in the front and first.  I did not take my usual place in the back.  I took the 2^nd row.  Hmm I may see a pattern developing here.

The BOC took the stage and started talking to everyone, trying to get us pumped about exercising on a Sunday morning.  Then she mentioned that there was a blog.  I could feel the heat rising in my face.  She said that the person who wrote this blog said she bounces instead of walking.  A neon arrow dropped from the ceiling above my head. 

Everyone nodded in agreement.  (Because she SO does)

PW and SD were standing in front of me – they turned to look at me and laughed. 

EYES FORWARD, PEOPLE!  NOTHING TO SEE HERE!

She moved on to say that this "mysterious" person referred to her as a ball of cuteness.  She preferred to be called Sex Pot; duly noted.  Seeing as how she is 4 ½ feet of zest-angy-icy sex appeal, we shall change her name. 

PW, SD and surrounding friends all looked at me, smiling.

BOC Sex Pot said she didn't know who it was.  That’s when PW, SD and FRIENDS picked me up and threw me under the bus.  I was called out.  They all pretty much pointed. 

Bunch of tattle tales!  The shade of red that my skin turned clashed with my new workout outfit.

BOC Sex Pot said, “Is it YOU!?”

INNER CHILD:  SAY NO!  SAY NO!

INNER VOICE OF REASON:  SAY NO! SAY NO!  LOOK AWAY!

I just made eye contact with the floor and gave a slight, unconvincing shake of the head.

She was not buying it.  If I ever have to enter the witness protection program, I am NOT taking PW, SD or FRIENDS with me.

I don’t necessarily mind people knowing who I am, but it does make it challenging to keep this thing real to my thoughts.  For example, in my post on Body Combat, I asked for tips on keeping digestive distress at bay when working my “core”.  Now I’m worried that if the room gets stinky while I’m doing crunches, everyone will automatically blame me.  Someone could potentially crop dust a room after eating Mexican food and everyone will say, “It’s probably just that gassy girl that writes those stories.”  I don’t want to be the flatulence fall guy, but I guess I have it coming.

ONWARD  à

The music starts.  In true BOC Sex Pot fashion, she’s bouncy and full of energy and wants us to engage in lots of bumping and grinding.  Bumping, I can do.  I bump into stuff all of the time.  But the grinding, well that’s a problem.  For some reason, my nether regions can’t get the circular motion down. 

At one point she had us shake our chests.  She wanted us to “isolate” the movement.  Unfortunately, I can’t isolate any movement yet.  If I’m shaking my girls, I can assure you that there will be an aftershock that will impact the rest of my body.  But I tried.  I felt a certain amount of pressure to really do my best knowing that she knew, that I knew, that she knows that I write stuff about her butt, ya know?

It was then that we turned to the right and I saw the mirrors.  Ah…mirrors…the reason I like the back row.  As funny as I think I look in my head, it can’t compare to what I actually look like in the mirror!  Seeing the image in the mirror turned this blog into a reality show in my mind. 

Then she had us drop it like it was hot.  Only mine is barely lukewarm and I can just about manage drop it about 2 inches.  On the other hand, I have no doubt that PW could pick a dollar up off of the floor!  I can’t believe that hubby let her get away ‘cause she can move her butt!  I can’t make a basic circle, but PW can do geometry with her ascot.  UNFORTUNATELY, SD got her mother’s moves. 

BOC Sex Pot also had us shake our junk on each other, which was pretty funny.  She figured we couldn't possibly be bashful with someone we backed our butt up on.  It works for dogs, so why not a room full of...?  SD said that was her favorite part and she thinks BOC Sex Pot is a super star!

BOC Sex Pot had us cracking up the whole time.  We were all sweating, but having a great time.  It certainly didn’t feel like work.  With the exception of the turns/spins - those always feel like work.

MAD PROPS TO THE LOVELY LADY WHO BURNED OVER 800 CALORIES SUNDAY MORNING!  YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND YOU ROCK!

All in all, Zumba was not as difficult as I anticipated it to be.  Could it be that I’m catching on? 

Oh no…what will I write about?

FUN FACTS:  Don't know what a Sex Pot is?  Well allow me to enlighten you.  While I was looking for the official definition of Sex Pot I stumbled upon this little morsel of knowledge:  This is actually the title of a book and 2 movies.  The book is apparently about the "happy confluence of carnality and cannabis".  We will not be using that definition to describe BOC Sex Pot. 

We'll go with this one courtesy of Urban Dictionary:  A sexy hot person. NOT someone who necessarily likes sex all of the time (although she might), but one who is just freakin' hot.  Considering the source of the definition, I had to correct the spelling on most of the words but I think it's probably suitable.

I’m a Fighter…Come at Me Bro!

I thought I was going to a kick boxing class. 

I went to Body Combat.  Kick boxing is Body Combat’s bitch.  Body Combat is like Mr. Miagi and Evander Holyfield duking it out to an awesome soundtrack.  Oh, did I mention it made me feel like I was going to vomit?

I didn’t go all of the way to the back of the room.  I moved up a row.  The lighting in the room was much brighter than the room I’ve done other classes in.  My inner brat prefers the dark room where nobody can really see us cry.

CarA (prounounced Car-UH) and MegHan (the H is silent but you should know it's there) took their places at the front of the room.  (emphasis on the A and H provided by CarA and MegHan themselves)  They were getting geared up.  Of course they are both ripped and look like they do nothing but eat tofu and kick butts all day.  My pre-class plan was to call the instructor Mr. Miagi, but there were two of them.  What do to??

Music starts…

We were bouncing back and forth…punch…jab…UPPERCUT!  I think I like those the best! 

Hmmm…nicknames…there have to be good nicknames – oh crap, we’re kicking!  FOCUS DANIEL SON!

I was sweating and panting and I’m pretty sure we’d been jumping and moving for 2 days.  That’s when Jackie Chan MegHan said the most atrocious thing anyone has ever said to me before.  The sheer horror of her words made me tremble with fear and want to run from the room. 

She said…

oh I can’t even type it…

She said…

“Are you warmed up?”

And then Steven Segal MegHan smiled, because they all smile while they’re administering their preferred form of torture. 

What the flip flappin’ pancakes did she just say?  I looked at Christina; my facial expression clearly displayed my thoughts.  She said, “That was the warm up,” and she SMILED.  She's one of THEM now!  I nearly wet my pants.  They were “warmed up”  I was ON FIRE!  My blood was lava and I’m pretty sure that’s what it would feel like to be cremated – only without the fatigue and screaming muscles.  Yes, being cremated would be more relaxing than Body Combat!  That’s when I made the mistake of looking at my watch.  It had been 15 minutes, my friends.  It took 15 minutes for Grass and  Hopper MegHan and CarA to whoop my tail and I had 45 minutes to go!

Okay…I can do this.  Kick, punch, jab…

Hmm…nicknames…these two are like Mr. Miagi and Daniel…

On steroids…

And ticked enough to punch someone…

Who isn’t really there…

But they’re still in touch with their zen...

And I don't think my husband would mind my saying that they're both pretty smokin' hot too!  (But I won't tell him that because then he'll want to come to class!)

I certainly can’t name them something offensive seeing as how clear it is that they could both take me out with an elbow!

Lennox Lewis CarA got me pumped doing jabs.  I don’t know what it was about their energy, but I was ready to get a face tattoo! 

Did I mention I was chewing gum?  Apparently at this point, I was breathing so heavily that the sheer force of the air leaving my lungs launched my gum out of my mouth and onto the floor.  Son of a BLACK BELT!

Bobbing and weaving my way through room full of women, Kung Fu fighting, was a little like I imagine being on the show, Wipe Out to be.  I could have been taken out at any minute.  I thought I was going to have to bite someone’s ear off!  I managed to get the ejected gum before someone stepped on it and stuck it to my water bottle.  Mission accomplished!  

Then I couldn’t stop laughing.  Have you ever tried to have a fist fight with the air when you can’t breathe and can’t stop laughing?  It is no picnic. 

Inner Child made her voice heard:  “Oh no, I think Chuck Norris MegHan saw the gum!”

Inner Voice of reason responded:  “Don’t be ridiculous, but don’t make eye contact, just in case.  And for the love of all things holy, STOP LAUGHING!”

Inner Child:  Apollo Creed CarA just SAW US LAUGHING!

OOH! New track – Rhianna!  We did this sassy little step and kick thing.  I am learning that when you are very clumsy in these classes, as I am, you sometimes get a move right and it feels like you know what you are doing, if only for a second.  It’s like hitting a sweet spot.  It was in this sweet spot that I was introduced to a new voice inside of my head.

Now, my inner child BRAT and my inner voice of reason are always at odds with each other.  My inner child screams and throws fits, my inner voice of reason looks over her glasses, down the bridge of her nose and speaks in hushed, calm tones.  This new voice was small and quiet, but strong and steady.  It was also quite possibly the dumbest one of all because it said, “We’re going teach a class like this one day!”  All of my voices laughed and laughed.  I think maybe when I can get through the class without feeling like I need a medic, I’ll slowly make my way to the front of the room and we’ll see where it takes me.  I already have to get my butt into pink; I don’t need to go dragging it on a stage just yet!

They ended the class with core work, which always makes me feel terribly afraid that I’ll encounter digestive distress causing discomfort to those around me.  Oh, why be proper now…I’m always scared I’m going to fart on someone when I’m doing crunches.  Can any of you tell me how I’m supposed to eat all of these veggies and NOT fart when my legs are in the air and I feel like I’m trying to push out a baby just to keep them there?

Sorry…I will end this on a positive note, so back to the new voice…

I think this new voice may be the voice of confidence.  I don’t know that it’s NEW; I just think it’s been missing for a very long time.  It’s still small, but the more I feed it, the more it will grow.  (I mean, look at what feeding’s done for my rear end!) 

All I have left to say is that there are no nicknames to do them justice.  MegHan and CarA are butt kickin’ rock stars who made me want to puke and I can't wait to do it again!

To Know Where You’re Going, You Have to Know Where You’ve Been!

I’ve been “tweaking” this post for a few days now, but after talking with a friend about her “speed bumps” this week, I figured this was as good as it was going to get.

I’ve been battling with my weight for almost 14 years.  When I got pregnant with my first son, I gained 75 pounds.  By the time I went back to work when he was 6 weeks old, I had lost all but about 10 pounds of it.  So when I started packing on the pounds during my pregnancy with my youngest, I just attributed it to this make believe fact that I was just someone who gained a lot of weight when I was pregnant.  It never occurred to me to attribute it to what I was eating or the fact that I wasn’t really moving.  I used pregnancy as an excuse to eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and in whatever quantities I wanted.  After I had my youngest, my oldest son and my step-daughter came to visit at the hospital.  They were amazed because while the baby was on the outside of my body, there was NO change to my stomach.  My youngest was a 10 pound baby and I was so big, that losing 20 pounds the day of his birth made no difference in the way that I looked.  When I went back to work 6 weeks later, I weighed in at well over 250 pounds and I was squeezing into a size 24.  They had an elastic waist and I had to wriggle myself into them like someone trying to put a very large pillow into a not so large pillow case.  I was depressed and miserable.

I started weight watchers and started to lose the weight.  For the next 10 years I was a yo-yo.  I’ve never gotten back up to that size 24, but I’ve never seen anything through to my goal weight either.  Two years ago, I was well on my way.  I had lost 40 pounds in about 6 months; I was walking every day and I was feeling great.  Then I quit smoking, gained all of the weight back plus some extra, got discouraged and  gave up for a while.  I still talked about losing weight.  I talked about exercising.  I can tell you I’m the Queen of England, but it doesn’t make it so.  Talking never made anyone’s butt smaller.

I avoided family bike rides because I couldn’t keep up.  I’d feel good about myself as long as the number on the scale was going down, but then beat myself up as soon as I hit a week with no change, or a gain.  I’d use that as an excuse to give up and go back to my old ways instead of using it as motivation to keep going.

I even joined Planet Fitness.  I had ONE incredible workout with friends and felt so good about myself, but then I found out that I had a torn bicep.  Discouraged again, I went back to hoping for the magical fix.  The right pill, tapeworm or bacterial infection.  I wasn’t about to be picky.  I just wanted to be skinny.  I didn’t even necessarily care about being healthy – I just wanted to look good in my clothes.  I even considered the crystal meth diet.  Those people are always full of energy and so thin!

I was tired of bailing on different events simply because I was embarrassed of my body, but not tired enough to put in the work.  I was looking for the quick fix.  I didn’t want to work or be uncomfortable.  I was full of excuses of why I couldn’t work out, but the bottom line is that it just feels so overwhelming.  It has occurred to me that sitting on the sidelines of my own life is no longer an option I’m willing to choose.  It’s time for me to make better use of this gift of life that God has given me!

So, join me as I try a different approach.  MY  approach.  I’m going to try something and if it doesn’t work for me, I’m going to try something else.  I’m not going to quit.  I walk into a gym and feel overwhelmed because I don’t know what to do or where to start.  I contemplate throwing water on myself so I look sweaty and can take a break.  BUT, if I walk into a class, where there is an instructor and other people, not only do I know what to do, but I know that if I take a break that I don’t REALLY NEED, everyone will know it.  I need that accountability right now.  So while I hope to be a gym rat one day, right now, I’ll stick with my baby steps…until I can see my feet. J

And I promise to love myself no matter what.  I want the number on the scale to go down (a lot) and I want to feel good about how I look.  I want to be healthy and happy with my progress, but I’m not going to wait until I get there to love myself.  The number on the scale does NOT define me as a person, friend, daughter, mother or wife.  So this time, instead of punishing myself to get skinny and hating myself when I’m not, I’m going to love myself enough to get healthy.  If I screw up and eat a king size candy bar after a bad day, I’m not going to give up on myself because Loreal is right, I AM worth it! (That candy bar thing isn’t a confession or anything)

I hope this is a fun place where people can come to exchange ideas and inspiration, and maybe laugh a little at ourselves along the way.  I’m using it to be accountable.  If I go a few days and don’t complain about anything, please check in to make sure I’m still at it.

Post stuff that makes you feel inspired and could help others feel the same way.  We can all get there together! J

I Survived Body Pump

After my realization that Lab Girl was not my fat burner in shining armor, I decided it was time for me to really get busy, FOR ME.  But it was still so overwhelming!  I knew I wasn’t ready to step into Planet Fitness and onto a treadmill.  My friend, Vicki, asked me to go to a Body Pump class with her.  Body Pump is a class that is supposed to yield mega results, relatively quickly.  Body Pump scared me.  Exercise scared me.  But I said YES.  (Only it wasn’t in all caps to her…it was more of a whimper type yes…) 

As I was getting myself pumped up, to go get pumped up, I got a text message from Vicki, asking if I’d rather go to our local watering hole for cheap wings and beer.  Cha – YEAH!  She offered me an out.  She offered to do wings and beers instead of squats and tears.  But I didn’t waiver - I put workout before wings, barbells before beers, and bros before hoes… (The last one probably doesn’t fit but I was on a roll!)  The bottom line is that I could have copped out, and I almost did.  That one moment quite possibly defined a new me.  (Or was indicative of the fact that my bank account is way more supportive of a free workout than wings and beers, regardless of how cheap they may be.)  But let’s pretend I was just really motivated, the moment was very dramatic, and carry on from there. 

We walked into the class and I immediately picked my spot at the back of the room.  I was thankful there were no mirrors in that particular part of the room.  I tend to see those things as direct little tokens of love...to me...from God.  Vicki helped me get my equipment:  a yoga mat, a step thingy (that’s the official name), a barbell and various sized weight plates.  The instructor walked in and was cut up like GI Jane.  I was suddenly pretty confident that I could dig around in my car and find enough change to buy some wings.  Then I thought, "If I walk out now, everyone will see.  I do not want to do the walk of shame."

GI Jane had us do 4,000 squats, 1,200 lunges, several pushups (I did the sissy kind), and a bunch of other stuff that I am unfamiliar with.  She said something along the lines of, “Good warm up!”  Wait, WHAT?  WARM UP!?  I was sweating so bad already - I’m pretty sure that is what it feels like to be cremated!  But I pressed on – I didn’t complain. (loudly)  At one point GI Jane asked how we were feeling.  I said, “Like $hi#!” Clearly I was the only honest person in the room - or maybe I was just the only one who didn’t realize that the music track was about to end and my, “Like $hi#!”, that was meant for Vicki’s ears, was probably audible to the Queen of the Quads, GI Jane.  My legs were shaking, my feet were cramping, my body felt like spaghetti.  I was tired.  But then something happened in my brain when she said we were done.  I’m pretty sure if I could have lifted my arms, I would have hugged her.  My body hated her, but my head loved her, because I had made it through an hour of effort towards a healthier me. 

Of course, my head joined forces with my body the next day when I tried to get up and walk.  Um…OUCH!  And as anyone who has experienced such BURNING TORTURE can attest to, the following day was even worse.  That was exacerbated by the fact that we were at a lacrosse tournament and the only available bathroom was a port-a-potty.  Have you ever tried to hover over a port-a-potty seat when your legs don’t even want to hold you at all??

It was just one class, but it was the start of something.  What if I had copped out and continued on as I’ve been doing for the past 10 years?  Sure, I would have had a nice weekend of being able to walk without moaning.  I probably wouldn’t have missed the burning in my quads.  But I would have missed what the burn said to me, ABOUT me.  I would have missed the fact that while the burn may have been uncomfortable, I earned it.  That burn has the capability of drowning out the voice in my head that tells me it’s too hard.  Does the burn suck?  YOU BET!  But the burn also tells me that I worked hard and accomplished something.  The burn tells me that it doesn’t matter how graceful I look while I’m in the class, it only matters that I’m in the class.  The rest will follow.

More Chins than a Chinese Phone Book!

I have finally found something LESS appealing than exercise!

I heard an advertisement on the radio about a double chin study.  They were looking for people to participate in a clinical trial of a medication that could dissolve the fat that causes your double chin.  Surely, if my neck and chin were thinner, I wouldn’t have to step foot in a gym.  This was the opportunity of a lifetime!  Did I mention they were willing to PAY ME to make me look FAAABULOUS??  I went online and filled out the form.

I got a phone call a few days later from a lovely young lady who was calling to go over the details with me to make sure I still wanted to do it.  I don’t remember her name, so we’ll call her Lab Girl.  I was like an eager little puppy with a new best friend.  I was sure once they dissolved the fat in my chin and neck, that the fat from the rest of my body would flee in fear and I wouldn’t have to sweat.  PLUS, I’d have $ to buy new clothes and take my new BFF, Lab Girl, out for ice cream!  WIN/WIN!

These are not direct quotes, but the conversation went something like this:

*represents those voices that only talk inside of my head

LG:  I’m calling to go over the details of the program so you can make an informed decision.

*MY INNER CHILD:  She's in!  Make her thin!  Pass the cookies!

ME:  Okay

LG:  For the first 6 months you have to come twice per month.

ME:  Okay

LG:  The first visit typically takes a little over an hour.  They inject you with what is comparable to the bile in your gallbladder and BAM!…fat be gone.  The second is a follow up to check for side effects and give you your 50 buckaroos!  Whoop whoop! 

*MY INNER VOICE OF REASON:  They want to stick needles in our chin!  You could end up looking like Rocky Dennis!

*MY INNER CHILD:  Rocky Dennis is COOL – and you could end up looking like Cher!

ME:  Have you done prior studies?  Have there been a lot of side effects?

LG:  There is a chance of bruising, redness, swelling, etc. – so if you have somewhere to be where you want to look nice, you want to take that into consideration. 

*MY INNER VOICE OF REASON:  If you have anywhere to be for the next 6 months, you may want invest in a head wrap.

LG:  Of course there is also the 50% chance you could be injected with placebo.  You’ll still get your cash but your chin will still be fat.  Actually, it may be fatter since we’ve pumped it up with fluid. 

*MY INNER VOICE OF REASON:  just folds her arms and looks satisfied.

*MY INNER CHILD:  pouts

LG breaks the awkward silence as my inner selves throw a tantrum

LG:  If the FDA approves the medication after all of the clinical trials, you’ll be stuck with the real deal face needles for FREE! 

ME:  And what if the FDA doesn’t approve it?

LG:  Well then there isn’t much we can do about that.

*MY INNER CHILD:  You’ll have your $400 and a brand new friend!

*MY INNER VOICE OF REASON:  And more chins than you do now!

SO…because getting experimental needles in my chin is actually something that is less appealing than exercise, I figured it was time to stop trying to look for the magic and make some of my own.

I will NOT be injected with bile, nor will I be BFFs with Lab Girl.  I will learn something new and take a small step towards better health every day, and I will share the good, the bad and the funny of this journey with my friends.

We wish you health and lean necklines!

Xo,

Me, Myself & I