Gym Talk

I'm sitting here this morning enjoying a nice plate of bacon and eggs.

Okay, that's kind of a lie.  I'm sitting here, after eating a piece of pan dulce, eating a plate of lower sodium turkey bacon and one scrambled egg because I need to get in some protein so I can go to the gym and not fall apart after 15 minutes on the elliptical from a sugar crash.

Turkey bacon makes me a little angry.  I know it means well, but it's not real bacon and it never will be.  Any time I eat it, I think about that scene from the last Harry Potter movie.

Not that I'm calling Snape turkey bacon, because Snape is awesome, but let's face it - he was no Dumbledore in terms of being a great headmaster.

I've yet to see a difference on the scale regarding my weight.  I don't even see a difference in my body.  This makes the Crazy Eating Disordered Girl in me a little nuts.  I mean, it's natural to want to see SOME progress.  The only thing I can say is that I don't look quite as bloated but that's subjective.

The logical part of me knows that it's going to take some time.  I know that I'm supposed to be putting on some muscle because I kind of don't have any.  No, really.  I have so much body fat on me, I cannot use the fat counter thing at the gym.  It doesn't register.

Basically, I'm veal.

I know that in a month, I'm sure to start seeing a bit of a change in my body.  The weight is sure to start dropping and things will be okay, but I'm part of The Biggest Loser crowd.  I want to see a 30 pound loss in the first week.  I know that isn't right, I know that their circumstances are much different than my own less than an hour workouts and free access to double cream cheese are.  They work out 4-5 hours a day and are on a restricted diet and have 'round the clock care.  Physically, I do what I can and then listen to SOMEONE complaining that there's nothing to eat for the rest of the day.  30 pounds in one week?  Not happening for this girl.

But I feel different.  I don't feel like dying when I walk across a parking lot into a store anymore.  I don't hunt for the absolute closest parking space. [Actually, more on that in a minute.]  I can get up from my chair without struggling too much.  I feel good.  Not great or anything, but a lot better than I felt when I walked into the gym for the first time.  I know my diet still needs tweaking, but it's the exercise that has really made all the difference.  I truly believe that.

Can I talk about the dumb tramps that go to my gym, though?

For the most part, everyone I've really met there has been helpful and supportive and genuinely kind.  It's a place that I enjoy going to.  But there are 3 types of women who go there that I want to punch in the face:

1.  The Juice Bar Bunnies.

My gym has a nice little juice bar. You can get smoothies and fruit and water, stuff like that.  But there are always a few women who seem to only come for the juice.  I've yet to see them do more than 10-15 minutes on the elliptical before they're down there sucking on a straw.  Honey, let me tell you - if this is all you're after, head down the road about half a mile and hit up Jamba Juice.  You can walk around the parking lot if you're so inclined.

2. The Pretty Princesses.


Why are you at the gym in full makeup with your hair done?  You're there to sweat, not pick up a man.  Scrub off your mascara before your sweat makes it bleed into your eyes, scrape your hair back into a ponytail, and WORK OUT.  I know you probably didn't just come from work being that I usually am there at 10 in the morning.  Also? Stop taking up entire benches in the locker room with all your equipment while you sit and text.  Some of us just want to put our purse up so we can do our thing. [Most of these women are Juice Bar Bunnies, too.]

3. The "Oh God, I Have To Do WHAT?" Wenches.


These women drive me nuts.  They're outside hiding behind their cars smoking a cigarette before coming into the gym.  They flit from machine to machine, not really breaking a sweat on any of them.  They drive around the parking lot multiple times because they're looking for the closest parking space they can get.  It's a gym! Walk a little further! AND STOP GETTING IN MY WAY.

I really should stop sitting here complaining about stuff and get off my own ass and go to the gym.  Plus, my boyfriend woke up early, disturbed my quiet, and now I need to go work off some of my irritation.

Gym Time

So that didn't really go as expected.

I headed into the gym on Monday morning, SmartWater in hand, phone holding a couple of mixes from Rock My Run, ready to hop up on an elliptical and pound away for a while.  I was convinced that since I had belonged to this particular gym last year, I wouldn't have to sit through the whole spiel on training sessions, or get beat up by a trainer.  When I'd initially joined this gym, my free personal assessment [basically the "Please buy training packages" session] was given to me by this young guy who seemed nice, then made me do more than my body was capable of doing, and then he tried to shame me into buying a monthly set of training sessions for $500.  Yeah. That was happening.

But, as soon as I got there, I was hustled off to a guy named Joey.  I told him immediately that I was not going to get training sessions and he said that was fine.  And then we talked. And talked. And he led me through a workout that left me energized rather than ashamed.

Yep. I walked out of the gym having signed up for a year of training sessions.

Guess I really will buy anything from anyone who tells me I look like I'm 25.

Okay, not really.  But Joey and another trainer DID tell me I looked like I was in my 20s. Yay for good genes!

So, I have one training session a week with whatever trainer I sign up with. I guess Joey doesn't do sessions there enough or something.  He signed me up for a session yesterday with a guy named Seth since I made him laugh by saying if I had a female trainer, I'd probably tell her where to get off if she tried to make me do something I didn't want to do.  Let's face it, I work better with men. But I think having a trainer is a good thing for someone like me.  I obviously cannot do this on my own anymore.  I've lost control of the situation.  I need someone to help me so that 1, I keep going, and 2, so I don't hurt myself.

I was sore yesterday when I went for my first "real" training session.  Seth made me more sore.  Luckily for me, he had a very large weight problem at one point [I'm beginning to wonder if that's a requirement for these trainers since Joey said he had a problem too being that he is a chef.] and that REALLY put me at ease. It's easier to work with someone who understands that someone who is my size cannot do the same things as some girl who only has 20 pounds to lose.

When I woke up this morning, my entire body ached. I mean, my thighs were absolutely angry and my arms have seen better days. My whole body seemed to be telling me, "Hey, remember the good old days?  Like, you know, last week? When we'd lay in bed and then get up and sit? Can we do that again?"

I'll admit it, I didn't want to go to the gym today.  I started talking myself out of it.  I'm tired, I'm sore, I need a recovery day, I don't wannaaaaa....  But then I started thinking about my family, about how my parents are paying for this, about how much I'm sick of this body.  I told myself to get off my fat ass and go.

Okay, so then while I was getting ready, I was cranky towards my boyfriend and he didn't seem to like it, but if I have to exercise, I want him to do it, too!  He's not going to, because he is kind of lazy, but I keep thinking if maybe I nag enough, eventually I'll get him to come in with me at least once.

So I went.  I moaned to myself all the way up the stairs. Every step was felt deep in my thighs.  I managed 10 minutes on the treadmill, and then 20 minutes on the elliptical.  I used to be able to do so much more, but I did what I could.  Seth had told me to put the resistance up higher on the elliptical rather than just doing longer at a lower resistance, which makes sense to me.  The trip back down the stairs was a ton harder than going up the stairs, which made me think, "What? Is this opposite day?"  Every step made my legs shake.  I held on to the railing and went slow, which was kind of embarrassing, but it would have been more embarrassing if I'd tried to go faster and fell ass over heels down the steps.

As I was leaving, this older gentleman walked out with me. He wanted to chat with me a bit just to offer some support.  He told me that "try" and "hope" need to be out of my vocabulary.  I need to just put my heart into it and do it.  He also said that, not to offend me or anything, but I'm really pretty and if I just lost weight, I'd be even more amazing looking. From his lips to God's ears, you know??

Oh, and he thought I was 27.

Kinda love the men at the gym these days!

I have cardio again tomorrow, then Friday is a rest day but only because I'm stuck going to jury duty. I'm hoping I can get that over with quickly and maybe get in a short workout, but we'll see.  Rest is just as necessary as working out, and I definitely don't want to burn out too quickly.  I have too many people behind me this time.

Let's not be like Bee

I come from a small family.  Not small in numbers, but everyone is fairly thin.  I'm one of the tallest females, although I'm only 5'5.  I'm definitely one of the the biggest females. When I stand next to my skinny beautiful cousins and my tiny little aunts, it can be incredibly awkward.  At least, it's awkward for me. My family loves me no matter how I look.

But, despite my out of control obesity, my mom's cousin Bee is actually bigger than me.  In fact, she's probably twice my size.  The last time I had seen her, she was well over 500lbs, and from what we've been told, she's gained more because she will hit up several fast food restaurants and get a couple of burgers or tacos or whatever from each and eat it all.  And I get it.  I, too, used to do the same thing.  Only I purged it out because that's how I dealt with my unhappiness.  She just eats more.  I suspect it's because she might be lonely, but unfortunately she's got kind of a bad attitude.  You know the type.  She's even told people not to bother coming to her house unless they come over to clean it.

We discovered a few days ago that Bee's health is definitely going downhill quickly.  For the past couple of years she's used a walker. I think the last time I saw her, which was probably 3 or 4 years ago, she had a cane.  Now it's getting harder and harder for her to get around.  She's diabetic.  Worse than that, she needs a heart bypass surgery.  Even worse than that? She's refused to get it.

Basically, she's decided to die.

Since there's not really much anyone can do for her now, the family has decided to turn their eyes on me since I'm the next biggest.  They're worried. They pray. They ask about me. And as sweet as that is, it makes me feel bad.  I don't want to be a worry to anyone, ever, and the fact that I'm causing my family any kind of worry does really really bother me.

So, I have to fix it.

I have been thinking for a while about rejoining my old gym.  I know that exercise is really going to have to be the key here because I don't eat badly.  I just don't move enough. Not even nearly enough.

After my doctor's visit this past week [and yes, my weight was totally brought up] my mom called me the next day and told me that she and my dad had been talking, and if I wanted, they would pay for me to rejoin the gym AND pay for any new workout clothing I'd need.

Well.  Twist my arm a little harder, I guess?

I registered today on the website and I'm planning on getting up early tomorrow to go.

I feel like I should be more nervous about going back, or even sad because I know for a fact that there is no way in blue hell that I will be able to do the workouts I used to do. [Yet, anyway.]   But I'm not.  I'm happy.  I'm happy to have somewhere to go, and to know that I'm finally going to do what needs to be done to start getting healthier again.