Last night I did the 30 Day Shred workout DVD by Jillian Michaels. That woman is brilliantly sadistic. Jumping jacks, weights, crunches-
and bears, oh my! Holy moly I am sore this morning. Granted, I feel great. I feel like I accomplished something. I feel like I should have felt 6 months ago when I bought the DVD.
This morning, I feel lighter. I feel like I can take on the world. I don’t know if this is a side effect of the exercise (as exercise increases endorphines) or because Jillian has actually motivated me. I actually wanted her to yell at me more during the workout. I wanted her to scream about my fat arse, flabby arms and wobbly stomach. I need that. I don’t want people to be nice to me when I am doing crunches. If I have someone telling me nice things it makes me think “oh I can just give half the effort. They won’t mind at all”. Jillian told me the truth. If you give half you won’t even get half the results.
I actually last night thought “This, now, this is how I am going to lose weight!” This morning I am thinking “I am going to lose weight because I can’t lift my arms to put any food in my mouth.” I have Jillian all figured out.
Ok, World, I am starting afresh. I am resolved to change my body for the better. When I started this blog (although on blogspot at the time…and a bit less committed…) I was 216 lbs and wanted to basically shame myself thin. Guess what? I am still 216lbs. Yes, I did well there for a bit, but then I got sick, and made excuses, and then the holidays came. So, I will be keeping track of my weight loss journey here…again…with all my snide comments, successes, failures, wobbles, and such. I, however, have a support group this time. As well as Susie, who is a great motivator, I will also be a part of a group of ladies who are sharing their support online. Our motto- New Year, New Body.
“Hey Mom! Can we have those hot dog things in the roll things?” La asked me yesterday around lunch time.
I first of course am going through my mental catalog of hotdog things that I make in my head. “You mean pigs in a blanket?”
“Yeah, those. I want those for lunch,” she said with a wide Cheshire Cat grin.
“Well, let me see if I have everything I need for them…” I am sitting there mentally cussing all the bad eating I did the day before at the child’s birthday party we attended. Hot dog, hamburger, chips, yep, I ate them all- with reckless abandon I might add. “Crap, crap, crap” I sit there thinking whilst peering into the fridge. Yes, we have hot dogs and crecent rolls that I need to make pigs in a blanket. “You sure you don’t just want a regular hot dog?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope, I want some with that roll thingy on it!”
Mentally me “Crap!”
I fished out the package of hotdogs and the package of pastry and started rolling the hot dogs up in their sinful blankets. Popped them in the preheated oven and then waited for them to turn a golden yummy brown.
“Mom, these are really good!” She said while stuffing her mouth full.
“Mmmmm, yes they are!” I said while mentally counting the massive amount of calories I had just ate. You know, some people say that “food doesn’t taste as good as skinny feels”, that might be true, but those pigs in a blanket hit the spot yesterday afternoon and I only feel a teeny tiny bit guilty about it.
Anger, Disappointment, Acceptance.
There is this other mom at my daughter’s school who has talked me into something completely insane. Circuit Training. *cue dramatic music- dun dun duuuunnnn* This is basically where you go into the gym, there is an instructor, the instructor lays out 10-15 different exercise stations and you hop from one exercise to the next for an hour- looping yourself around the gymnasium. Assisted suicide basically.
Tomorrow the class starts at 10 am and by 11 am I will either be completely pumped and excited that I finished my first circuit class or dead. Either way, that is roughly 700 calories burned in an hour.
I work out on an Air Force Base. It is open for free to all military personnel and their spouses. In order to get to the cardio room I have to walk through a corridor and then through the weight room. The weight room with all the men who look like greek gods. The men who work out constantly and wear small little workout clothes and know that they are in shape. I am also in a shape- round. It can be very damaging to one’s psyche to have to subject oneself to this kind of sight on a daily basis.
The one thing that keeps me sane is knowing that most of them probably take protein supplements which means they are extremely flatulent. Mega stinky farts.
I went shopping for workout clothes today. Do you know how hard it is to find decent work out clothes when you are above a size 12? No, seriously. I mean, I am not picky by any means. I just want something that doesn’t make me look like a blob. When I went shopping today I had two small racks of clothes to choose from. Two racks out of ten had clothes my size. Apparently, if you are over a size 12 you aren’t allowed to work out with any sort of clothing dignity.
I ended up with a pink shapeless top and a pair of pink and grey capri workout pants. I can’t workout in full length pants so that worked out well. Also, I picked up a sports bra so I don’t knock myself out with my knockers. That would be a shame and yet strangely impressive. Anyhoo, back on topic, would it kill clothing manufacturers to make exercise garments that are a bit more flattering for women who well, need to exercise.
Here are some suggestions I would like to make to the athletic wear industry:
1. Add some darts in the front of workout shirts for big girls. We don’t want to gross out people at the gym with snug workout clothes but hugely baggy tops don’t work well for our figures either.
2. Give us more options when it comes to the cut of the shirts. I wanted something sleeveless. Do you think I could find that? Heck no. I had about one actual choice for a shirt.
3. Make shorts for big girls that won’t ride up in all the wrong places. Yeah, I don’t want to see it either.
I really don’t think these things are huge requests. I mean, all I want to do is be able to jam out to Marky Mark’s “Good Vibrations” (and pretend that I have the body of a greek god like him) on the treadmill or elliptical machine and be comfortable, is that too much to ask?