The Clap

Our bodies make noises.  If you pretend yours doesn’t, then you’re just fooling yourself.  Not only do our bodies make noises, but we aren’t the only ones who hear them.

When my knees crack, the snaps can be heard from across the room by the deaf.  When my ankles pop, it sounds like the creaks from an old wooden chair.  I mean, I KNOW that when I move, everyone hears it.  Let’s not forget that I moan and groan when I stand up and sit down, so much so, that the baby I nanny has picked up the habit to moan and groan when he stands up and sits down.

So, it may surprise you that in my twisted sense of reality, I really figured that NO ONE heard… the clap.

It’s no secret that when you lose weight, you don’t just magically lose all of the skin that you spent years stretching out.  Nope, that shit stays with you.  Like a badge of honor, or a fat tax, or something.

Well, as I lose my padding, I gain sag.  Lately, I have noticed that my body has a new noise.  It claps.  Like, when I have my arm up, and I let it down real fast.  MY BODY CLAPS FOR ME.  I actually sent this as a text to my two girlfriends from High School.  I told them that it was super nice of my body to give me a round of applause when I’m up walking around.  Still, I thought I was the only one who could hear it.

I wasn’t.

So, it’s a Thursday, and I’m at the gym.  I’m actually in an absolutely terrible mood.  Like, my normal ‘funny ha-ha I’m going to kill you’ jokes to my trainer, had a much more authentic vibe on this particular day, if you know what I’m saying.  Honestly, I was in no mood to joke.  No mood to play around.  I was angry with the work out.  I was angry with my lack of ability.  I was angry with the Plyo Box (i.e.: Devil Box).

I’m doing step ups, and struggling with them.  I have three sets of ten step ups, per leg.  I’m on my last set of 10 for my last leg, and I raise my arms to catch my balance.  As I step back down to the ground, my arms come down, and…

‘CLAP’.

My trainer starts to laugh a little, and in a quick moment, he stops.  I think he sucked that shit back inside, in fear of actually being slapped across his face. (full disclosure: I wouldn’t ever hit him, no matter how mad I was… I’m really not a violent, mean person.  I just play one, at the gym.)

I am physically dying.  I’m trying to catch my breath. I’m trying to not die.  I’m trying not to laugh, because well… that shit was funny.

At that moment, I remember what I said to my friends.  My body was clapping for me.  I was actually receiving a round of applause from my body, for making it through my work out.  I’ll take it.

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Wun.

Standing On The Scale Backwards

Well, I’m back.  Where have I been you ask?  Not walking, running, wunning… no, not that.  In fact, I’ve been doing NOTHING.  Between work, and driving 2+hours a day, and feeling like an 80 year old with my back, there isn’t a whole hell of a lot of time, or motivation, to do anything; BUT THATS NOT AN EXCUSE!

If you haven’t kept up with previous entries, you may not know that I have been struggling with back pain all summer long…or as my Husband would say, ‘ever since you turned 30, weird.’  Yesterday, I found out that all the Physical Therapy, and Advil has done nothing for me.  No crap, I’m still in pain!!  And all that begging for a MRI, and more meds?  For the most part, it fell on deaf ears with my doctor.  In fact, the only reason I got an MRI was because I forced it, and the new doctor was happy I did.  The meds?  They ‘smoothed’ me over by giving me basically a sugar pill.  Fun.  No wonder I can’t move, fall randomly, have numb legs, and can’t do half the shit I’m supposed to at work.

So, now I’m on 3 new medications.  THREE.  Fingers crossed, people!

In the meantime, the best part about this blog is that I get to read back, see where I was, how I was feeling, and I’m able to go back, and do it again.  

Is it bad to change the name of the blog?  I’m thinking its should really be The Misadventures of a Fat Girl Wunning.

Oh, and are you wondering why this is called ‘Standing On The Scale Backwards’?  Because that’s what I did yesterday, at the doctors.  Who would want to see the damage done by a summer of no movement.  Ugh.  Square One.. we meet again.