Boy, You Got Rules!

I may or may not have written about this before, but it’s something that I deal with a lot.

When I first met Franz, we set some ground rules.  His were dumb… like no laughing, no joking, no talking, pay attention, listen, safety first.  All really ridiculous.

My rules, on the other hand, were extremely important, and much needed.  Franz’s rules for training Ally are as follows:

1. Just deal with me.

2. Understand that I WILL complain.  You can’t change that.

3.  No matter what, I am going to talk, and most likely try to make you laugh.

4. If my shirt is lifting up, you must tell me.  If I can’t move my hands, you must fix it for me.

5. If I have mascara running down my face, you must tell me, so I can clean it up and not look like a raccoon.

6. Know that I am going to pick my wedgies, and I don’t care who sees, or if you’re embarrassed by me.

7.  (last but not least) Warn me if I forgot to shave my armpits on upper body day.

 

I mean, seriously?  These aren’t hard, right?  Like, he can handle these.  It’s basically common courtesy and respect for the one you are training.  Right?

The other day he failed on one, and I left looking like I had been punched in the eyes. Listen, I don’t do my make up to go to training.  I work all day, and I have make up on so I don’t look like I’m sleeping, and at the end of the day I go to train.  Obviously when I go, my make up is still on, which just adds to the fabulousness of me.  Well, the other day, I sweat that shit right off.   It pooled under my eyes, and I failed to check my face in the mirror in my car when I left.  I proceeded to head to Target (fucking vortex), and did a whole ton of shopping for shit I didn’t know I needed, and when I left the store I FINALLY looked in the mirror.

There was a goddamn curly haired raccoon looking back at me.

Franz Failed.

 

P.S.  Writing this made me realize what an absolutely refined lady that I really am.

 

 

Jump Up, Jump Up, Don’t Fall Down

My nieces came to visit over the weekend.  Being the spoiled littles that they are, every time they come, we love to do something extra special with them.  This trip, we had something GOLDEN planned.

My brother, his wife, and I brought them to a trampoline park.  When we walked in, the place was a freaking zoo.  We should have known; It was a holiday weekend.  Kids were EVERYWHERE and the sheer volume of noise in this place was overwhelming.  I was a little nervous that this would throw them off… but we got lucky, they were ready to jump.  By the way, when I told Franz what we were doing with them, his actual response to me was, “You probably shouldn’t go unattended.  You’re gonna hurt yourself, or break something.”.  #supportive

We checked in, and headed to the trampolines.  OFF.  THEY.  WENT.  I’ll admit, I was a little nervous to get onto the trampoline.  In my head, I’m still 90 lbs heavier; But this year is all about change, and facing fears, and I got on that shit, and jumped.  It was so much fun!  We had a blast jumping, bouncing (and watching other, more daring people flip).  The girls were completely carefree and going wild.  They loved every second.

I won’t even lie- I had to remind myself to relax my body, because that shit hurt my back if I jumped to stiffly.  Also, all I could think was ‘What’s Jiggling?” while I bounced.  But you know what?  Who the fuck cares?  There were hundreds of kids and adults there.  I was just one in the crowd, and I was having fun!

An hour and a half of jumping later, we took our tired girls to get ice cream for lunch (because that’s what you do when you’re an aunt and uncle).

When we left the park, a friend messaged and asked if I had fun.  I said, ‘I did! It was great!  We just got into the car to leave.’  Without skipping a beat, the return message was ‘In a car?  Not a van with flashing lights??  I’m impressed.’  It really is amazing the amount of supportive (and clearly hilarious) people I have around me.

jump

this place was no joke.

We Shall Call Him Franz

So the last time I was writing about my trainer (poor soul), I mentioned that we should give him a name.  After many good ideas, I presented the list to him.  After quick deliberation, he chose a name, but I didn’t like his response, so I’m choosing one for him.  We will now call him Franz.

So, my latest story about Franz is that I really, officially think that he is trying to kill me.  During my last work out with him, after I was finished with most of my exercises and headed to the last one, he kept repeating, ‘Ooooh!  We have ten minutes left! You’re gonna have to do this for ten minutes!  You’re gonna hate me!’  Too late, Franz.  I already do.

The  last thing Franz wanted me to do was pick up a 60lb sand bag, and walk it down the track, and back.  When I got back to the beginning, I was to put the bag down, and pick up a kettle bell in each hand.  Each one weighed about 40lbs.  My first trip down the track with the bag I thought, “I used to carry this weight around on me every single day of my life”.  My first trip down the track with the kettle bells I thought “Holy shit, I used to carry THIS weight around on me every single day of my life”.

My OMG moments were rudely interrupted by Franz telling me to stand up straight.  Here’s the thing- When you were 85lbs heavier, you’re used to holding your body weight in a certain way.  Standing up straight to me, is actually leaning back in the normal world.  When Franz tried to get me to stand straight, it felt like I was leaning forward.  Add 60-80 pounds of weights, and I am like a hobbling old woman.  I don’t even know how any of this makes sense because currently, I feel like I am just leaning forward all the time.  I think I need a posture brace. That should work out well while I’m trying to hop, squat, and lift at the gym.

Anyways, I did this for ten whole minutes, just like Franz threatened.  When I was done, I dropped the weights, and put myself back in that happy place thinking, “I used to carry that.  I USED to.  Not anymore.”

 GET. OUT. AND. WUN.