My Big Come Back!

We have a lot of ground to cover so this is likely to be a long post!  Grab a cup of coffee and settle in!

When last I left you, Dear Friends, I had embarked on the 21 day challenge (again).  Here is a summary of that:

Day 1:  Just me, the kids, Super Storm Sandy and 5 boxes of Girl Scout cookies.  I didn’t eat any, but I spent the day sulking; cursing the Girl Scouts and their stupid cookies.

Day 2:  Just me, the kids, Super Storm Sandy and 3 boxes of Girl Scout cookies.  I didn’t eat the 2 missing boxes but I did spend the day sulking; cursing the Girl Scouts, their stupid cookies and my kids for eating 2 boxes of my favorite stupid cookies.

Day 3:  HALLOWEEN.  “FUN SIZED” Butterfingers.  Enough said.

Day 3B:  Apparently some Butterfingers survived. 

Day 3C:  This is starting to feel like Ground Hog’s Day.  At this rate, it will take me 365 days to complete my 21 day challenge. 

Day 3D:  …….

Day 3E:  …….

…….DON’T JUDGE……

And that is when I found myself lost in an extended “FUN SIZED” sugar coma.  I remained in that coma until Thanksgiving.

It’s kind of scary to think how quickly I fell back into the same bad habits.  At first it was life that kept me from getting to class.  Illnesses, family member surgeries, school projects, etc.  Then less important things that should never have taken priority over my making healthy choices.  I learned that I need to be careful about guarding my time.  My class time is MY time.  When I take MY time I am a better mother, wife, friend…I’m a much better ME.  When I allow things to cut into that time and take me off course I lose ME…at least I lose site of the path to the me I’d really like to be.

Maybe I got scared because I knew I was on the right path to a “new” me.  It seems silly but a lot of my personality is wrapped up in the current me.  Maybe somewhere deep down I’m scared of this new lifestyle.  What if I don’t fit in?  I’m calling a therapist as soon as I post this!

I was really starting to beat myself up when I heard one my favorite songs on the radio.  Part of the chorus says, “I have fallen so far; flat on my face. I’m in need of Your grace today.”  GRACE.  I think about it all of the time.  I talk about it all of the time.  How do we extend grace to ourselves and others?  I wasn’t doing such a hot job.  I wasn’t the only one struggling.  In fact, people who I thought had ROCK SOLID discipline and resolve were facing the same challenges I was facing.  I’m grateful for that lesson.  I won’t wait to reach out to others if I find myself back in that place.  It was through others that I was able to see that it was time to get out of the coma.  We all deserve to be the best versions of ourselves.  If I don’t fit in, I’ll just MAKE ROOM!

So I went to PUMP last night.  Apparently they have a new guy.  Obi wan and the new guy were on stage.  They were so cute bad a$$ in their matching red & black outfits.  I am quite certain that Obi wan said the new guy’s name but that is not important.  All you need to know is that he was more than a little yummy and I couldn’t look directly at him.  He mentioned he has a daughter.  I imagine with his DNA, his daughter looks like the sun reflecting off of freshly fallen snow.  Big deep sigh…

Oh, and I was having a BAD BOOB day!  I had put on the sports bra that doesn’t quite hold up very well.  My girls were spilling out when I did my dead lifts and rows.  They weren’t busting out in that, “I’m 20 and look how perky my boobs are” kind of way…OH NO…they were more like that, “I’m 38, have a bunch of kids and don’t my boobs look like a busted can of biscuits?” kind of way. 

Every time I stopped for a minute, he was looking at me.  I am a paranoid person by nature.  I always think they are looking at me when I stop – he really wasn’t looking at me.  But he reminded me of one of those portraits that hang in a haunted house.  You know the ones that look at you no matter where you go in the room?  He was JUST LIKE THAT – only way too cute to be scary.

Anyway…it felt like starting all over again because I haven’t been there…and everything but my eyelids hurt this morning.  I actually kind of missed this feeling!

I could not wait to get to COMBAT tonight.  Silly me…

When MegHan said we were splitting the room!?  I wanted to pee my pants, throw up and run from the room…probably in that order.

I flashed back to the last time she did this…

She parted the room like Moses.  Everyone listens to her because…well…she’s bossy got the gloves and her muscles have muscles.

The people from the front were facing the people who try to hide in the back.  Instead of being hidden in the back, I had a bunch of women facing me.  Meg was in front of me, her back to me.  Lord…please let us just bow to one another and go back to our original positions.

NOPE!

Meg turned around, but she wasn’t Meg anymore.  There was a new expression there.

I thought I may have heard her yell, “Freeeedom!!!”

She made us CHARGE each other…then pretend to punch each other…then run away.

Oh – I forgot the taunting…she had her hands up by her head in a NEENER NEENER YOU LOOK LIKE A WEINER kind of way and she was saying, “Nah nah nah”  She was singing an anthem to my inner child before she made us run.

Then CHARGE (again)…punch…run away

It continued…

over…

and over…

and over…

because breathing is apparently overrated when you’re Meg.

EVERYONE could see me.  There were no secret water breaks during this track.  I started hoping someone would actually punch me in the face and knock me out so I could rest.  No such luck!

Then she had us fight zombies with our claws.  She looked all fierce.  I was all like, “THUNDER CATS…HOOOOOOO!” 

According to my 14-year-old, you can kill a zombie with the following weapons:

·        Shot gun

·        Glock

·        AK47

I'm sorry but our claws are not going to take out any zombies and after the running and charging I was pretty sure we should have been in cool down already!  There were more options on the list of acceptable weapons but CLAWS were NOT. 

In case you were worrying about how to survive a zombie apocalypse, Google has all of the resources you need.  According to one of them, us chubby ones should be careful because we’re sitting ducks.  Reason 4,987 I need to lose this weight:  TO SURVIVE A ZOMBIE ATTACK!

So you are all caught up!  This fight is an uphill battle.  It’s fought on a slippery slope, made up of Butterfingers and stupid cookies.  There are zombies at the bottom.  I need to claw and scratch to stay away from them.

I can’t say that I’ll never be flat on my face again, but I can say that I’ll never stop getting back up.

I’m staying with the fight!

P.S. Inner Child here!  Just tried to stand up from the computer chair.  I believe I speak on behalf of all of the large muscle groups when I say, “NEW BOY ain’t pretty enough to get away with hurting us like this and Meg is a *&^%$…”

Voice of REASON taking over to finish that last sentence…Meg is a beautiful lady.

Deep Thoughts on My Fall from Grace!

I weighed myself last Saturday morning (DAY 6) and was thrilled to see the number on the scale had dropped 8 pounds.  I know it was mostly fluid and happiness, but EIGHT POUNDS in 5 days is pretty major.  I was very excited!

My family usually enjoys a big breakfast on the weekend.  I made the big breakfast even though I couldn’t eat it because I was tricked into it I’m selfless like that.  Inner child felt like we should be able to have some bacon.  What’s a piece of bacon when you just lost 8 pounds?  Her argument was strong, but I was stronger.  I was not happy about it, but I was stronger.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I was really angry at my family for eating breakfast.  Hubby walked over to me munching on a hash brown and I almost filed for divorce.  I was so cranky that I thought someone in my family might actually hold me down and stuff carbs in my mouth.  The poor dears ate their breakfast and fled in fear. 

We went to a bull roast Saturday night.  As soon as I got there I knew I should have taken my own food.  They had a bunch of stuff that I couldn’t have, which I expected, but they didn’t really have anything I COULD eat.  I ended up getting a small portion of beef, 2 slices of tomato and ice water.  I actually felt pretty satisfied with myself…I had resisted the temptations…for a minute.

It didn’t take long for me to crumble.  Actually, someone gave me a jello shooter.  I was starving, it was sweet and it had to be fewer calories than the cake they had just put out.  It was a gift and I didn’t want to be rude. 

I’m not a big drinker, so I don’t even know what seemed so appealing about that little blue cup, but it was delicious.  It was blue jello with Pinnacle whipped vodka for those that are curious.  I’m not condoning drinking vodka, just sharing the truth because that’s what I aim to do here.  (Did I mention it was delicious?)

I wish I could tell you that it was the only one I indulged in, but I can’t.  I CAN tell you that if you go 5 days without eating and you aren’t a big drinker to begin with, it doesn’t take many of those little blue cups of joy to make you slightly fuzzy in the head.  I wish I could tell you that I didn’t try the “adult gummy bears” too, but I can’t.  I also wish I could tell you that I didn’t let my stinkin’ thinkin’ convince me that going to McDonald’s on the way home wasn’t really going to make a difference since I’d already blown it, but I can’t. 

Isn’t that all or nothing attitude what got me here in the first place?  That voice that says I may as well have what I want since I’ve already messed up beyond repair?  I used to let that voice tell me that I’d have to wait until Monday to get back on track.  I wonder if anyone else does that.  Do we all decide that whatever change we are attempting to tackle must begin on a Monday?  Do Mondays not suck enough already?  

I didn’t order fries or a soda.  Thinking about that cracks me up.  I don’t even understand the logic behind it.  I can eat jello infused with sugar liquor, gummy bears soaked in vodka and a burger that is really nothing more than pink plastic bubble goo, wrapped in a bun and slathered with ketchup, but I draw the line at French fries and a coke? 

It’s that same logic I use when I allow my kids to play Call of Duty but make them mute it.  I’m totally okay with them being proud of their “face shot” and other gruesome killings, provided they don’t drop the F-bomb when they do it.  I DO have my standards, you know.

My biggest concern was that I’d have to write about my failure but I knew that I had to because if I’m not honest about everything, this is kind of pointless.  I can brag about my every triumph and only post the positive stuff, but that would only be a sliver of the story.  This is hard.  I do laugh at myself every day, but every change I’m making is hard.  I can condemn myself for messing up, or I can love myself enough to keep on trying. 

Do I hate myself for not looking a certain way, or do I love myself enough to be healthy?  I truly believe the answer to that question can impact my success.  If I’m condemning myself for not being what I think I ought to be, then that ‘all or nothing’ attitude will take me down.  That voice tells me I may as well eat whatever I want, since I’ve already failed.  That voice that says I’ll always be on the losing end of this battle with my weight will take over and become toxic if I allow it.  That voice has been in charge for 9 years.  That voice is fired.

If you’ve read my other posts, you know that Meg has become one of my very favorite people and instructors.  It’s like an I LOVE MEGHAN Fan Club around here!  I really think it all goes back to the first time I heard her ask the question, “What are you here for?”  It spoke to my core and stirred a fire in me.  She asks it almost every class when we’re all tired and just want it to be over. 

For me, there is a lot of power in that question.  WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR? 

What am I doing all of this for? 

Why am I trying to work out when I’m terribly uncoordinated and it makes me want to throw up?

Why am I taking on hellacious dieting challenges that make me want to eat my gym sock dipped in butter? 

Why am I writing about embarrassing things like flatulence during core work, or selling my soul for a jello shooter? 

Well, I really want to be smoking hot!  DUH!

But wait…there’s more!

I want to break the chain of unhealthy habits and show my children something better. I want to be proud of myself and I want my family to be proud of me.  I love that after watching me struggle with my weight for 9 years my kids are now seeing me throw excuses out the window and take control over it.   I’m proud of the power in that message.  We all have struggles and we have to own them to overcome.

I’m here because God gave me this body and it’s my job to honor Him with it.  I’m thankful that He’s forgiving of the fact that my mouth doesn’t always honor Him, especially in CXWORX and PUMP! 

Why am I writing about it?  Well, at first I was just writing this blog for fun.  I thought my close friends and family would get a kick out of it and it’s a great stress buster for me.  I never thought it would be seen by as many people as it has and that is very humbling.  I keep writing because it is keeping me accountable and I figure if one person reads this, relates to it, and walks away feeling like maybe they can try something today that they were afraid to do yesterday…well THAT is really awesome.

I was certain my hiccup would have registered on the scale the next day, but there was no movement.  I weighed myself the following morning and it did go up 1.5 pounds.  It could’ve been the junk, it could’ve been fluid, or it could’ve been the gigantic pimple that formed on my face.  It was undoubtedly the result of the alcohol and sugar trying to exit my body.  Either that or my inner child was trying to sprout her own head right out of my chin. 

As of DAY 8 the scale moved back and I was still down 8 pounds.

I planned to be back on track and I was for a day or two, but then a million things came at me.  The final straw was being sick.  I want what I want when I am sick and the 21 day challenge did not fit into that plan. 

So here I am…ready to start again…and it just so happens to be on a Monday. 

I should just change my perspective on Mondays.  Here’s to Mondays being good for fresh starts and getting back on track!

Here’s to staying with the fight!

21 Day Challenge - Hell Week

Day 2:  I’ve been going to The Fitness Rave since August.  I’ve never walked in and found cookies waiting for me.  Apparently when there is a launch, they put out snacks.  WTHeck!?  I passed them by because let’s face it; I CAN’T fail on Day 2.  I did the new release of COMBAT (53) and loved it.  I only felt like I was going to throw up once or twice, but I felt pretty sluggish.  I know my body is not only adjusting to the eating changes but also soda withdrawal.

All of the portion measurements are done by comparison with your hand size.  Palm of protein, 2 handfuls of veggies, thumb-sized amount of fat.  I wish my hands were bigger.

Day 3:  I was scheduled to have lunch with friends and I didn’t want to cancel.  We were going to Panera Bread so I started looking at the menu at 10AM.  I decided I would get a chicken cobb salad minus everything that tastes good some of the ingredients that are not allowed in the challenge. 

The ordering went something like this:

Guy behind the counter:  Welcome to Panera, how can I help you?

Me:  I’ll have a chicken cobb salad, please.

Guy: Okay

Me:  With no egg, dressing, croutons, or bacon

Guy: Wha?

Me:  No egg, no dressing, no croutons, and no bacon.  Does it come with cheese?

Guy:  Yeah

Me:  And no cheese, or joy, or happiness

Guy:  Huh?

Me:  Can you just throw some grilled chicken, lettuce, tomatoes and avocado in a bowl?

Guy:  Do you want a baguette as your side?

Me:  I will CUT YOU!

Guy (into the microphone):  I got a complicated order!

*If you don’t get the Bon Qui Qui reference, please check it out on YouTube AFTER you’ve finished reading this post.  Don’t interrupt…RUDE!

I thought that I would have to split the salad, but the amount of chicken looked to be about palm size and the veggie portion looked about right with what I’m allowed to have.  The avocado was a little more than the thumb-sized portion I’m supposed to have.  I decided I was going to eat the avocado and hit myself in the thumb with a hammer later.  I figured swollen thumb = bigger thumb = more avocado.  :)  Meghan disagreed with my math.  No big surprise there.  My inner child doesn’t understand why Meg hates us like she does.  Meg's inner Bit@# doesn't understand why my inner child is such a crybaby.  Those two just can't get along.

I really enjoyed my salad and my time with friends.  They enjoyed my bread. J

I finished the day by going to the new release of BODYPUMP 83.  Marisa, my diet buddy and fitness idol, was in class.  At one point I mentioned to the girl next to me that I was weak.  I meant in general and all of the time.  Marisa turned and said that she was weak too!  She meant because of the diet.  SHE had what looked to be about 300 pounds of weight on her bar.  She said it was half of what she usually does.  I had about 3 pounds on my bar.  I told her it was about double what I usually do.  She blew me a kiss and went back to kicking butt. 

FYI…Les Mills people… just because you CALL one track a SQUAT track and another a LUNGE track doesn’t mean we don’t realize that you snuck extra bottom half squats in on us.  Meg said if we added more weight, we’d get a break.  I added more weight.  APPARENTLY we have different ideas of what a “break” looks like, but whatever.

I did feel pretty weak and tired during BODYPUMP, but I decided to stay and try the latest release of CXWORX (8).  I made this decision partially because I knew I wouldn’t be able to get to the gym for a few days, partially because the launch makes everything seem so exciting, but mainly because my friends were there and I’m a follower.

I don’t even know that I did half of the stuff I was supposed to do.  I was mainly just laying there feeling sorry for myself while visions of bananas danced in my head.  I kept my legs up in the air so everyone would think I was working.  Now don't go telling people that I just throw my legs up and lay there.  It's not nice to gossip, mkay?

There was a part of the class where I swear Meg was levitated off of the floor.  Her feet were up.  Her head was up.  She said her butt was on the ground, but I swear I saw her floating in the air.  It may have been a hallucination brought on by hunger.  She wanted us to do it too!  She looked like this:

YES, she was smiling!  I think I saw her head spin slowly.  THEN she moved her legs and her head towards the floor at the same time and rose back up.  She did it very slowly.  She never touched the floor and she never lost control of any muscle in her body.  Did I mention that she wanted us to do it too!?  I was afraid I was going to lose control of my bladder!  I looked back at PW and she said, “She hates people, doesn’t she?”

DAY 4:  I had a cup of coffee, which is allowed, but I added a smidgen of half and half because I'm not cool enough to handle it black.  I also ate a tic tac.  Don't judge me.

DAY 5:  If I was a wild animal, I would have eaten my children this morning.

I am still sluggish because I’m still de-toxing off of soda, but it's getting better.  I’ve had lots of people try to tell me that it’s okay to “treat” myself.  My mother even said, “You can’t live like this forever!”  No, but I can do it for 21 days.  I figure that sliding into the clean eating lifestyle should be like a party after this!

On a positive note (since all I’ve done is whine and complain)

My skin was really breaking out badly last week.  It’s clearing up and isn’t as oily.  Since the only thing that I’ve changed is my diet, I’m assuming it’s a perk. J

I’ll be taking measurements and weighing on Monday so I’ll let you know if 7 days of the “Suck the Life Out of Me for 21 Days” challenge has made any impact on my measurements yet.

The It Sucks to be Me Diet!

I hate to admit to it, but I DO like to keep it real, so here goes…

I’ve been using the fact that I’m working out as an excuse to eat crap. 

There…I said it.

Prior to exercising, I ate much better than I have been eating in the past few weeks.  In the beginning, I was being very careful about what I ate, but that’s all over with.  I will leave the gym, walk in the house and head right for the snack cabinet.  I’ve been rewarding myself with food.  Go to the gym…wag my tail…reward with food.  I know it’s bad so I’ve agreed to try a new diet.

Apparently Les Mills has come up with a diet challenge.  You know how they like to keep the torture fresh and new so nobody gets bored.  21 days to reset your body to a healthy pattern of eating.  Someone thought it would be funny to have me try it out and write about it.  They can’t possibly think this will be GOOD for business but I agreed because I want to be smokin’ hot.

Day 1 wasn’t horrible.  I missed my diet coke aka THE JUICE.  It’s my caffeine source and while I know all of the health nuts see the words “diet coke” as POISON IN A CAN, I have not been able to kick that nasty habit.  I pretty much breezed through the day until my oldest son had ice cream last night.  It took a little bit of self control not to lick his face.
Day 2 has been a little longer.  I am tired.  I have a headache.  I’m whining and sending messages like crazy asking what I can have.  I think MegHan has set up an automatic NO response to my messages.  I just wanted crab soup…jeez!  Protein and veggies…I am NOT seeing the problem with that.

I started thinking back to a story I heard about a guy in Tennessee.  He was known as the Big Bellied Rapist.  He confessed to 19 felony charges that led to a 60 year sentence.  NOW he is claiming that his interrogators used junk food to coerce him into confessing.  He claims that they only fed him lettuce for an extended period of time and he was so insane from the diet that it rendered him incapable of making a rational decision.  When they offered him chips and a soda, of course he confessed to 19 FELONY COUNTS.  They must have been some GOOD chips…and high octane soda, not the diet stuff.

When I first heard that story, I thought it was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard.  This can’t possibly work as a defense!  Who would confess to anything for a coke and some chips? 

Well, after 36 hours on this new eating plan, I might.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think I’d do 60 years for some run of the mill chips, but I may be willing to do 3-6 months for a brownie.

(I am not trying to make light of Mr. Big Belly’s crimes, only his ludicrous defense.)

But here’s another example of how dieting can get you in trouble:

LONDON, April 7 (Reuters) - An airline pilot arrested just before take-off on suspicion of being over the alcohol limit was not drunk and the diet he was on may have been to blame for the confusion, airline Virgin Atlantic said on Saturday.

Police arrested a 47-year-old pilot of a New York-bound Virgin Atlantic plane at London’s Heathrow airport after being tipped off by security staff who thought the pilot had been drinking.

An initial breath test showed that the pilot was over the alcohol limit, but his blood tests were negative according to the airline spokesman.  “The result showed the amount of alcohol in the blood was consistent with that of a non-drinker,” he said.

They said a diet the pilot had been on may have been the cause of the mistake. A laboratory that carried out the blood test on the pilot said some diets lead the body to generate increased levels of acetone.  The result of that would be the smell like alcohol on someone’s breath.

So not only could I go so crazy that I confess to a crime that I didn’t commit, but I could get a DWI?  I would be doing a public service if I backed away from the computer and ate a Twinkie RIGHT NOW.

And finally, The Mayo Clinic apparently did a study about the impact dieting has on our mental health.

"A group of emotionally healthy young women who did not need to lose weight agreed to live together in the clinic under a doctor's supervision while being fed a restricted diet for an extended period of time.”  Really?  They didn’t need to lose weight but agreed to be a part of this study?  Read on… “In less than 90 days the women's personalities had begun to change, they began experiencing unprovoked feelings of anxiety, persecution and hostility. Some had nightmares and others panic attacks. The doctor overseeing the study stated that he had 'created a group of neurotics'."

If you ask me, they were crazy to agree to a diet that they didn’t need to begin with, but whatever.

My point…because I have one…

I do NOT believe that diet should be a defense for committing a crime BUT please know that if at any time over the next 21 days, I confess to a crime, crash a plane or go bat crap crazy, it’s NOT MY FAULT.  Please send snack cakes. 

Thank you.

I’m off to BODY COMBAT.

My 15 Minutes of BODYATTACK

MegHan sent me a message asking if I’d like to take a BODYATTACK class with her.  Josh the Fabulous would be in town to teach a class.  He would love to join the tribe of people who torture me and read about it later.

There were a couple of things that concerned me slightly.  #1 was the fact that MegHan would be right next to me during the class.  I like to think she can’t see me crying when she’s doing her thing up front and I’m hanging out in the back.  At the very least she can’t hear the conversations we have...about personal stuff...like how certain we are that even her lady parts have mega muscles.  #2 was the fact that the class has the word ATTACK in it.

Really?  Who comes up with these names? 

BODYATTACK

Let’s be realistic.  If I want to be ATTACKed I can simply roam the streets of downtown Baltimore sporting a Steelers jersey and a Yankees hat.  The thought of that type of attack actually frightened me less than this class. 

I don’t know why the marketing gurus at Les Mills haven’t thought to name these classes something a little less intimidating.  I mean c’mon, chunky gals like me are not running anyone over to get to BODYATTACK.  They could at least hand out cupcakes at the end of class!  Now, if you advertise for a bake off that will burn your biscuits I am IN!  I’ll even troll the parking lots of Weight Watchers meetings, handing out flyers.  I’ll have no problem growing the cult tribe.  It’s not a lie – my biscuits always burn when I leave class.  So there you have it Les Mills… your 2013 marketing plan.  You’re welcome.  Let me know where to send my resume.

So after I agreed to be BODYATTACKed, I started doing some research on the class.  I found a guy who calls himself a BODYATTACK Addict!  At first, I thought I could reach out and help him.  Generally the first step towards recovery is admitting that you have a problem.  Clearly, he has done that by telling everyone on the World Wide Web that he is an addict.  I figured I could just send him a donut along with a word of encouragement and save him from himself.  I’m super selfless like that.  I live to serve others.

But then I read his profile.  This guy started at 418 pounds.  He has lost 212 pounds!  40 of those were lost in 3 months’ time by participating in Les Mills classes.  BODYATTACK is his favorite and he’s now an instructor.  Super crazy cool, right?

I enlisted the support of She Who Shall Remain Nameless (until we come up with a suitable nickname that does her any justice at all) and we decided we would meet and drive together.  We ended up getting stuck in horrible traffic.  I was really stressing out as the minutes passed.  The class was supposed to start at 6:30 and we were still sitting in traffic when the class started.  I hoped we could make it before the end of the warm up, but no luck.  She even drove on the shoulder of the road.  The drive itself could be a separate post!  From the off-road rv to the guy biting his nails with the back of his head and our special vocabulary lesson.  Suffice it to say the drive was an adventure!  We did not get into the club until 7-ish.

During this time, I had worked up a vision of this new instructor.  I’d watched him on the internet and someone compared the class to old school aerobics with extra jumping.  I’m not going to lie, I kind of envisioned Richard Simmons. 

I imagine people don’t typically show up 45 minutes late to a 55 minute class and stroll in as if they are there to WORK IT OUT!  There were all of these sweaty people in the room, giving us the stink eye because we looked fresh and fabulous...whatever.  Hate the game, not the player.  We arrived just in time for the lunge track.  Oh the luck!

First of all, Richard Simmons doesn’t have a thing on Josh.  Josh’s mic matched his shoes and he has some pretty awesome hair.  (And thankfully his shorts were longer than Mr. Simmons’)  In general, he’s got some serious fitness swag.  Then I saw him move.  Richard Simmons would have to be on METH to move like Josh.  He was bouncing around like a spider monkey.  We were there for 1 track and I was sweating my balls off…a lot. 

Les Mills says your results will be:  Improved agility, coordination, strength & endurance, heart & lung fitness.  They say it’s a “sports-inspired cardio workout for building strength and stamina.”  I say it's not something you should do in a room where there is gravity.  I’ve never been more thankful for a traffic accident in my entire life!  I can assure you this ain’t your Mama’s Jazzercise!

Josh did this jump to the side, jump up in the air…jump to the other side, jump up in the air.  I stood there…in the back of the room…I glanced at She Who Shall Remain Nameless and all I could think was, “BULLSPIT!”  I could hear my inner child say, “Oh NO!  Mommy don’t jump!”  I usually spend a lot of time correcting my inner child, but she had a point on this one.  I can’t sneeze, fart or cough without crossing my legs.  I’m sure not jumping! 

The good thing about Les Mills classes is that there is ALWAYS an option.  If your instructor is hopping around like he/she is all cracked out on Mountain Dew, you can stand there with your arms crossed looking at them.  They will see you standing around, they will not approve and they’ll give you an option that may be a little easier to get you moving again.  Let's face it, nobody ever got smokin' hot by standing still!

Oh – I almost forgot my favorite part…PLANKS.  

*I didn't make that picture...I wish I knew who did because I would give credit where credit is due because I LOVE it!

The bottom line is that we were in class for 15 minutes and I was sweaty, out of breath and had guzzled a very large bottle of water.  Keep in mind the cool down was at least 5 minutes.  Seriously…MAD CRAZY SHOUT OUT to whoever sacrificed their car on 95 because if I had to take the entire class, I may not have survived to tell about it.

Josh asked what his nickname would be.  He suggested TIGGER.  My inner child immediately spoke up and said, “Simmer down, Skippy…Mommy makes the nicknames around here!”  We really need to work on her manners.

But actually, as bouncy as he is, Tigger fits…only with extra GER!  Going forward, Josh is TigGER and if I’m ever challenged to take another one of his classes, I may have to rear end someone with my car - or go - DEPENDS!

To the Window, to the Wall, to the Sweat Drippin’ Down my Balls…

Or rather, where my balls used to be before Body Combat castrated me!

Allow me to explain…

A while back I was looking at my rear view in the mirror when I noticed at the bottom of my bottom there were 2 little lumps.  Upon closer inspection I realized that it looked like my butt had sprouted a small set of truck trunk nuts.  As I’m sure you can imagine, I was terribly alarmed and did what any woman in my position would do.


I screamed for my husband!

He rushed into the room expecting to see me bleeding or on fire, but what he saw was much worse!

I bent over and said…

“Does it look like I have BALLS!?”

Now, my husband is not always good in a crisis situation.  In fact, when I’m in distress his default reaction is usually to laugh at me.

Do you know what kind of balls it takes to laugh at your wife when she discovers that she, herself, may have her own set of balls?   BUFFALO BALLS!

I tried to explain the seriousness of the situation to him, but he couldn’t hear me over his fits of laughter.

He is not a stupid man.  He never confirmed or denied the existence of my balls, however it became a running joke.  If I had a wedgie and he caught me pickin’ my butt If my underwear crept into my nether regions and he happened to notice me repositioning them in a totally lady like way, he would say, “Do your balls itch?”  Yea…funny man had jokes…but I told him I knew it was only because he was jealous that my balls were bigger.  I'm so mature!

Fast forward…

I have not weighed myself since I started this journey.  I was afraid that I’d become so obsessed with the number on the scale that I’d miss subtle changes and fail to appreciate my progress.  About a week ago, I tried to put on a pair of jeans that were a size smaller.  They were still too tight.  At first I felt discouraged, but then I realized that in reality I actually started the next size up.  Since I refused to buy the next size up, I’d been cramming myself into my pants like a 3lb. sausage in a 1 lb. casing.  NOW, I’m really the size I am.  GO ME!

I have noticed other changes too.  First, I LOVE working out.  (WHAT!?)  Instead of looking for excuses to avoid it, I look for ways to carve out time to go.  I get very upset when I can't.  I find myself working lunges and esquivas into household chores, like picking dirty laundry up off of the floor.  MegHan and CarA have brainwashed me!  (They will also be super proud of my vocabulary!)  I pretend I’m Sex Pot or Obi Wan when a good song comes on the radio and I whip my hair back and forth.  I’ve even contemplated taking P90X with Marisa, who I’m pretty sure was bitten by a radioactive spider at some point in her life.  It would account for the fact that she can jump 4 feet off the floor and do burpees like she’s in a zero gravity atmosphere. 

Last week, Hubby asked if I had weighed myself.  I told him that I hadn’t and he said, “Your balls are gone.”  At first I thought he was calling me a chicken.  I was just about to deliver a mean roundhouse kick to his head (in my head) because I can totally do that now that Meg showed me how to beat the crap out of imaginary people and air.  When all of the sudden I realized what he was talking about.  I was overwhelmed with emotion at the tenderness of his words.  I immediately reached around to grab where they used to be and sure enough…no balls!  I knew right away that I’d just have to write and tell my friends about my disappearing balls!

I showed up for Friday night Body Jam and Sex Pot started bustin’ my balls about the fact that I’ve been slacking on the blogging.  Marisa was there.  She showed up…for an exercise class…after she went running.  I’m telling you, it is NOT natural!  She will end up with a nickname like G-force, or Madam X or something of the sort.  OH! And Sex Pot had a friend teaching with her.  I’m pretty sure her name was NOT Bionic Biceps, but it is now.  She had crazy arms that I wanted to rub, but I didn’t.  The Solid Gold Dancers were there too – they brought wine and made me love them, but that’s for another time.  So sorry; I'm rambling!  Anywhoo...back on track...to my balls…

Sex Pot uses the word “amazaballs” a lot.  It inspired me to write a note of thanks to all of the “amazaballs” people who are helping me while working “balls” into as many adjectives as possiBALLS.  Challenge accepted!

So…this is for all of you who are a part of this process…

Brace yourself – it’s terriBALLS!

You are all amazaBALLS for helping me turn my fatty balls into wonderBALLS by making them invisiBALLS and that makes me feel incrediBALLS!  Everyone who enters The Fitness Rave radiates inspiration and motivation through perspiration and it's downright faBALLous!  I even see slight signs of a waist forming and that’s pretty BALLSome too!

I know hubby is happy and relieved to be the only adult in our house with balls again. 

I can't wait to sing him my new song:

I got no balls to hold me down,

To make me fret, to make me frown,

I had balls, but now you see,

I got no balls on me!

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I think it was Spidergirl that suggested I start taking my measurements.  I believe I will start weighing and measuring so I can track my progress, but I won’t let the numbers define me.  Who knows? Maybe I’ll eventually break down and take P90X, but I don’t have the balls just yet!

I still have a lot of work to do and a long way to go.  I'm still not graceful or coordinated and I usually feel like I'm going to hurl when my hour is through.  BUT those smaller jeans are within my reach as long as I “stay with the fight" and shake my arse on Friday Nights!

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.