Can’t Make This Up

If you follow along with Fat Girl Wunning, you know that some how, some way, I can make any work out session into a complete shit show.  Between hitting Franz in the crotch, almost falling off of a treadmill, swearing with no care in the world, or almost kicking Franz in the face, there is always something utterly ridiculous that happens.

This week was no different.

Get your imagination pants on and picture this…  It’s Upper Body Murder day, and I am still in the first half of my work out.  Franz tells me to get down in a plank position, with my legs wide apart. This will help me keep my balance because while I’m planking, I will also be doing rows with a 30lb weight.  This is a new exercise for me, so I was focusing a lot on how I was keeping myself up, how many muscles hurt, and oh, lift that weight the right way so you don’t have to hear Franz yell at you.  That’s when it happened.  I hit myself directly in the boob with the weight.  Straight shot.  Thirty pounds.

I sat up, clutching my flapjack, and looked up at Franz who was laughing at me.  It hurt.  I made that known.  Franz just continued to laugh.  I got back in the plank position, to finish my sets.  I continue with the other arm, and then switch back.  Three reps in, I smack the flapjack again.  This time, some how, I managed to keep it quiet.  No need to egg Franz on, and give him something to make fun of.  But dammit… weights to the boobs hurt!

Next up on the WTF Happened At The Gym Today list is when my shirt strap broke.  Same day as my Flapjack incident, my brand new gym shirt decided to steal the show.  All of a sudden, the adjustable strap was loose.  I go to tighten it, and it completely opens up.  The itty bitty plastic piece that holds the straps in place, had broken.  Super convenient timing.  Lucky for me, the broken strap just made me look stupid in a shirt with one strap hanging off, and it didn’t effect the whole ‘coverage’ aspect.  You bet your ass I drove right to the store I bought it from, and returned it that night.  (I also bought two more… maybe that ONE was defective?? 😉 )

Oh you thought we were done?  We’re not.  The very next training night was Lower Body Murder day, and holy moly Franz had it out for me.  As I sit here now, writing about it two days later, my legs are STILL throbbing.  Anyways, I did the entire work out, and my legs are like jelly, and in true Franz style, he has me do the hardest thing last.  You know, like when he’d have me push his ass on the sled, down the green…  On this day, Franz puts me on the leg press machine (or what I call the Birthing Baby Maker).  He adds 250 pounds of weight and tells me to do four sets of 25 reps.   TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY POUNDS.  I’m pretty sure my life flashed before my eyes on multiple occasions.  I was dying.  Complaining and swearing the whole time.  Wanting to fast forward time to when I was done, and I could roll off the machine and lay on the floor… to die.  On my last set, I think I got to number 16, and I pushed my legs up, and locked them in place.  I couldn’t do it any more.  Franz was tired of saying, ‘one more’, ‘let’s go’, ‘don’t stop’, etc. Instead, he said, ‘Remember that time I poured water over you when you were on the floor?’  I started laughing… then it hit me.  Franz stood there with his water in his hand and said, ‘KEEP GOING’.  I unlocked my legs, did three more reps, and stopped to cry again.  That’s when the nice luke warm stream of water came down on my face, soaking my chest, and running down my back against the seat of the disgusting machine.  Water splattered all over the floor, and the only thing I could do was laugh.  I was holding the weight up with my sore feet, and wobbly legs, and laughing so hard while trying to wipe the mix of sweat and water out of my eyes.

Then I hear it.  ‘FINISH, ALLY!’  Ok, ok… I struggle to get going, but I push out the last few reps, lock up the machine, and roll out of it like an old lady.  I was finally done.  Done, but I couldn’t walk.

Listen, if I can do it, YOU can do it.

Wun.

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Do You Have Five Minutes?

It’s Thursday night.  I have completed two sessions with my new trainer, and I’m laying on my couch recuperating.  My phone buzzes and it says that I have a text from my old trainer.

‘How was the first week?’ he asks.

‘Well, I didn’t swear’ I answered.

After a few back and forth messages about my new trainers training technique, he asks what I am doing on Friday morning.  I tell him I’m going to visit my grandparents…but why???

‘I wanted to see if you could meet me at a gym.  I found a place where I can train people.  I chose my favorite five clients, and you made the list.’

How is that even possible?  I am the worst to him.  I mean, I threaten his life on a daily basis!  Oh well… I MADE THE LIST!!  Unfortunately, this doesn’t change the fact that I can’t go see the gym, but I am excited at the prospect of training with him again (guess I should have held my breath after all!!).

So, it’s Friday morning, and I place a mobile Starbucks order, hop in my car, and head down the street to grab my espresso.  I get out of the car, and walk with my head down, staring at my phone.  All of a sudden I hear, ‘Ohhh… I thought you were going to see your grandparents.  That’s why you couldn’t meet up with me’!  I look up, and see my old trainer.  I’m completely startled.  This is the equivalent to seeing a teacher outside of school.  It’s just not supposed to happen.

I pull myself together, and start laughing and telling him that I am just grabbing my coffee, and headed to see my grandparents.  He asks if I have five minutes to check out the gym, and before I can resist, he pulls me down the sidewalk.

We walk into this space full of VERY athletic looking people.  Women are seamlessly puling themselves up on bars. People are lifting weights as if they were picking up feathers.  Most of the space is what the ‘Green’ looks like at the gym.  Remember the ‘green’?  The space in the gym that I hate the most?  This place was 100% ‘green’ area.

My trainer explains that he can train me here, and he can do it the way he really wants to.  ‘You’re going to transform’ he says.

All I can think about are all the ways I’ll picture hurting him, while training here.

#newbeginnings

 

 

You Got A Friend In Me…

Or not.  (stick with me, this is lengthy, but worth it)

A few posts ago, I mentioned that when you lose weight, or change your lifestyle, it seems that so many other things change along with it.

For real.  I had no idea how losing weight, and changing my bad habits, would affect the people around me.  Most of the amazing people in my life understand that this is the best thing for me, and do their best to support me.  Some don’t.

I mean to an extent, I can understand why some people start to pull away.  When you’re used to going out to eat with someone, and having drinks, and talking about weight and how you wish you could lose some, and stuffing your face with crappy food because you wallow about your life together- it must be hard when someone in that relationship changes, and doesn’t do any of that anymore.

What doesn’t make sense to me, is that if you’re ‘good friends’ with someone, and you have shared some seriously intimate parts of your life with them, and you have supported each other through thick and thin, that that ‘good friend’ would disappear, instead of being there for you, when you decided to be the best version of yourself.

Nope.

For me and my friendship, it started out great.  This person was by my side every step of the way on this journey.  She would tell me that she would support me, and instead of drinking and going out to eat when we hung out, we could go walking, or get a coffee!  She was so supportive, caring, loving.  She even bought me a bunch of really helpful things for my weightless journey, including shaker bottles, and a journal, among other amazing items.  That sounds like the kind of person you would want in your corner, when you decide to change your life for the better, right?  That’s what I thought, too.

Apparently I’m wrong.  I’m still not quite sure what happened, or even why it happened.  I can’t seem to put my finger on one specific event that may have triggered the downfall of our relationship.  In fact, there wasn’t even a downfall.  It just stopped.  Everything STOPPED.  No more support.  No more encouragement.  No more spending time together.  Even our daily (all day, every day) texts stopped.  I mean, completely out of the blue.  Done.

Sometimes, I think about it and get really deep in my thoughts, and start beating myself up.  What if I hadn’t started to take care of myself?  What if I kept going out with her to bars, just like we have for years and years?  What if I didn’t change?  Would she still be by my side?  And then I have to remind myself that I am doing this for ME.  First and foremost, I needed to be healthy again.  I would do this all over, in a heartbeat, even knowing that I would lose one of the closest, most important people to me.

Maybe someday she will wander back into my life, and I will be able to put this behind me, and reconnect.  Maybe I’ll even find out what really happened and why I lost her in the first place.  Maybe… but if I don’t, I have to remind myself, that what’s happened, happened.  What’s done, is done.

I am healthy.  I am working on being happy.  If people don’t support that, then there is no space for them in my life.  In fact, even if I wasn’t on this journey, I wouldn’t be able to keep someone like that, around me.  No one should.

We live in a society where the number of Facebook ‘friends’, or Instagram followers you have, defines how… I don’t know, popular you are?  Maybe well liked?  I don’t know.  I just know that recently, in light of this loss of friendship, I have deleted many people from my Facebook friends list.  I am done pretending to be friends.  I want genuine, real, supportive, amazing, happy, positive people around me.  Period.

Was this entry a downer?  I hope not.  Writing it was therapeutic. I got this off my chest, and out of my head.  Everyone should be able to share their struggles. Everyone should feel supported when they need it most.  End of story.

Flaws

Ok, we all have flaws.  There isn’t one person who is ‘perfect’.  I mean, what is perfect, anyways?  I also think that we can all be our own worst critics.  Am I right? Or is that just  me?  For as long as I can remember, I have looked in the mirror, and seen someone who I thought had pretty eyes, or (on a good day, and after YEARS of hating it) had pretty hair.  I have never looked in the mirror and thought, “You look SO good” or “You’re so pretty!”, despite what people try to tell me that THEY see.  Anyways, the point is, I never looked at myself without seeing all my flaws.  I look in the mirror and I pick apart my face, my neck, the way my shirt fits, how my pants are tight and what the hell am I going to do when I am out to dinner and I can’t breath in them?!  (that’s a real life problem)

I thought as I lost weight, that I would see clearly when I looked into the mirror (I can see clearly now, the fat is gone….).  Instead, I still see the Fatty Ally.  I know in reality I look better, and I see the number on the scale, but to me, I feel like I look as heavy as I was before.  #bodydysmorphia

I currently wear a size jean that I haven’t seen since High School, and I still look at my rolls.  Isn’t that crazy?  65 lbs lighter, and all I see are the same bulging bits of fat, that I did before.  What’s really incredible, is that when OTHER people see my pictures, they are astonished with my accomplishments, and they don’t see my flaws, at all.  At least SOMEONE can see the difference.

Every once in a while, something will pop out and remind me that, ‘yes, you did lose a shit ton of weight, and you ARE different’.  The latest being (are you ready for this?) Crossing.My.Legs.  Like, I cross my legs, and it’s not uncomfortable!!  Only the heavy can appreciate and understand that Non Scale Victory.  How do I explain the next example… When I fold my laundry, I look at my shirts, pants, really anything, and I think, that’s so small!  I have to remind myself that IT FITS ME.

I know that loving who I am comes with time.   Seeing who I am now, will come with time as well.  I know this.  While I wait for that to happen, I will continue on this journey, and work my ass off.

Keep on wunning!

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Clearly, I document EVERYTHING, but this was totally worth it.

 

Because I Don’t Want To Look Dumb

I have always wanted to try yoga. I think I’ve told every body.  Usually, the conversation goes something like this:

Me: ‘Oh, you do yoga? I’ve always wanted to try it’
Them: ‘You should!!’
Me: ‘I don’t know.  I’m really not flexible, and I don’t want to look dumb’
Them: ‘No!!  Go to a beginners class!’

And that, my friends, is what brings me to this entry.

It’s Saturday.  I’m dressed in my work out clothes because, well, I’m always dressed in work out clothes.  I’m out doing errands, and I brought my sneakers so I could go to the gym, before I went home.  Unfortunately, I forgot my socks.  Tragic.  After errands, I go home with the intention of grabbing socks, and heading back out;  But I didn’t.  Would you?  It’s kind of like walking into a vortex when you pass through the front door of your home.  Once you’re in, you’re not getting out.

I knew that I would be super upset with myself if I didn’t work out, and I told myself to go to the gym, but my body just wouldn’t move.  All of a sudden I have a thought.  Does my Smart TV have an app for working out?  On the search I go, and after a few minutes the verdict is?  It sure does!  It even has a yoga app.  So, I download both.

The first I do is put on a regular work out, where I follow this unbelievably fit, gorgeous woman.  Annoying but I keep going.  I followed along as long as I possibly could- heaving and struggling my way through it.  The whole time, I’m listening to the most annoying calm voice of the instructor, and trying my damnedest to find a drop of sweat on Pipsqueak Barbie.  I did about 16 minutes, which doesn’t sound like a lot, but the work out was so fast paced and intense that I started to lose my balance.  Wouldn’t wanna fall when you’re home alone, am I right Life Alert?

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This is when Pipsqueak and I took a selfie.  I probably should have told her to smile wider.

When I couldn’t do any more push ups and lunges, I decided to ‘cool down’ with some BEGINNER yoga.   I pop that sucker on, and I make it through a few moves, which is incredible because I am the least flexible human being on the planet.  But… Do you want to know when I quit?  DO YOU?  I quit when my beginner yoga video tried to make me do THIS:

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I mean.. WHAT IN THE HELL??  Beginner yoga?  I was hoping that it would be more “child’s pose” and “bridge” and less “balance all of your weight on your poor wrists and hands’.  This was like throwing me straight to the wolves.  So, I quit.

I guess it’s back to the gym I go… tomorrow.