This One Is About A Wicked Nice Farmer I Know

I’ve posted about the hilariously shitty things that people have said to me, about my weight loss, but this time, I want to share a story about a really nice comment.

My town has a Farmer’s Market, and I’ve gone every Thursday, in the summer, for at least six years.  I go to the same vendor for fruits and vegetables, every single time.

Over the years, I’ve gotten to know the guy who runs this particular stand.  We have small chit chat, and he’s always very pleasant.  He’s really a very, very nice guy (also cute, but that has nothing to do with it. haha!).  Once upon a time, he told me his name, but I never remember names…because I suck.  I call him Farmer Brown, when I talk about him.  Judge me.

Yesterday, while paying for my pretty peaches and zucchini, Farmer Brown said, ‘Umm… I don’t know if this is ok to say; I mean, I don’t know if I’m allowed to say this, but you’ve lost a lot of weight!  Is that ok to say?  I hope it is!  You look great!’

I replied, ‘OF COURSE!’  I thanked him, and told him a few stories about the crazy shit people have said, and how this weird human race thinks it’s ok to say kind of, well,  slightly rude comments about people who lose weight (but not when they gain it, of course!).  He was shocked at the things I’ve heard, and we just laughed about it.

I will say, that sometimes it’s awkward when people say something, but deep down I actually really enjoy it.  I don’t enjoy it because I’m narcissistic.  I enjoy it because sometimes I don’t see the changes.  When other people haven’t seen me in a while, their reactions are always nice because that’s how I know I’ve changed.  My hard work, and dedication to this process, has all been worth it, when I get those reactions.

Anyways, I really wish that he knew that he absolutely made my day.

 

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.

Oh, Baby!

Oh, you thought my adventures stopped when I left the gym?  Well, you’d be wrong.  Let me tell you a little about my job.  I’m a nanny.

Yes, let that sink in.  This fowl mouthed, life threatening, insane person that you know and love as ‘Ally the Wunner’, is a nanny.

Somehow, I curb my bad behavior and terrible language at the door, and turn on the sweet baby tamer.  Really, I have taken care of children forever, and I think I’ve only accidentally dropped a bomb once (that I can remember).

Anyways, yeah so, while I nanny the future, dumb shit continues to happen to me.  Let me bring you into story time…

I’m out walking the baby, like I do every day, that I am with him.  We have the same route through his neighborhood, and we typically stop at the same points.  Mostly to make sure that he’s not chewing on a leaf (this has happened), or sleeping; Also to get some baby hugs and kisses, which I steal from him quite often.  So one day, we are walking through the neighborhood, and we stop in the shade of a tree on the side of the road.  I am just about to snuggle up to his face and give him some seriously annoying kisses, when this woman pulls up next to me in her Jeep.

‘Did you see the deer?’ she asks.

‘…huh? No…’ I say, while looking at her like she’s crazy.

‘It’s right over there, in that yard.  I watched it cross the street, and now it’s right there’.  She says this while pointing to the backyard of a house that we are standing LITERALLY right next to.

The more she moved her car, the more the deer stared in our general direction.  The woman began to creep her car forward (maybe trying to scare it away?), and the deer seemed to step closer.

At that point, I ‘NOPED’ the fuck right out of there.  All I could think and picture was a deer galloping towards me and the carriage full of precious cargo, and WHATTHEFUCKWOULDIDO? I actually pictured myself pushing the carriage toward a deer and me running in the opposite direction!  I mean, are you kidding?!  That would never happen!!!  We all know I can’t run… I mean, I would also never leave the baby in harm’s way… but for real… ME RUNNING?!

Anyways, for the rest of the walk, I spent my time texting everyone about this new ordeal, and looking back over my shoulder waiting for Bambi to strike.

 

Here’s another ‘funny’ about my time with the Little Man.

So, as I have established many, many times before, I am weak.  Sore, old, and weak.  It doesn’t seem to matter how much weight I lose, or how much I work out and strengthen my muscles… I’m weak.  I’d like to blame most of it on the back injury a few years ago (remember THOSE fun blog entries??).  I mean, when I sit down, the creaking and cracking bones can be heard across the house.  When I stand up, I seem to groan every single time, out of pure necessity.

Well, a few weeks ago, my little one year old nugget muffin began to moan, too.  Every time the kid stands up, he groans… just like me.  When he sits down, he sounds relieved…just like me.

At first I was mortified, because his Dad noticed and said, ‘HAHA! Is he making the same noises as you??’  Then it just became funny to watch this little boy act like an elderly man.  I mean, the fact that he copies me is hilarious, but the idea that he’s copying something so utterly ridiculous makes it even funnier.

Until I remember that he’s copying me….

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‘Deer Face’, to protect the innocent.

I’m Not Actually Athletic

I think I’ve made that very clear.  I mean, I suck on my volleyball team, I pretend to be a runner, I think sports injuries include pulling my groin while walking, and of course, I can’t work out in the weight room by myself in fear of killing myself or someone else.

So basically, I’m not actually athletic, I’m just thinner.  Sometimes, people will get that confused.  Like my trainer for example.  Yes, back to talking about HIM.  During warm up on the treadmill, he thinks it’s necessary to put me on the highest incline possible, at a decent rate of speed.  It’s kind of like speed climbing Mount Everest (I think, I could be wrong though).  Someone might look at me and think, of COURSE she can do that!  No problem!  WRONG.  I was heave-hoeing my way along.  Heavy breathing, sweat dripping, legs burning, and of course I was telling him to ‘get the fuck away from my treadmill before I kill you’ while swatting his hands away.  I’m super pleasant. 🙂 BTW warm up is only five minutes.

Yesterday, while doing my upper body work out with my Trainer, he started to say these absolutely insane things.  I’m not quite sure what he was thinking. He would say things like, ‘I train you like this so that someday you can do it by yourself’, and ‘When you don’t train with me, you should come and do these routines on your own’.  WHAT?!? How does he not know me, by now?  I won’t try to lie to you… my reaction went something like this: I straight up looked at him and said, ‘I will always need a trainer.  I will never be alone.  I can’t be left alone.  You’re insane.’ and I followed it up with, ‘You do know this will become a blog, right?’ This was all happening while I was lifting an Olympic Training Bar (or something like that… honestly, he told me what it was called, and I didn’t listen) into my fucking crotch. He only responded to me by laughing.  I’m pretty sure he was laughing at a combination of my Dumb Workout Face, my complete honesty, and the fact that he knows I write about him.

So yeah, I’m definitely not athletic.  At least I try, though.  I honestly don’t give a fuck if I embarrass myself, or look like a complete asshole.  I’m doing it.  I have come a long way from when I first joined a gym, and was completely embarrassed about being drenched in sweat when I left.  I mean, isn’t that the point?

My how times have changed.

This is what 'Lower Body Murder' day looks like when I'm done.

This is what ‘Lower Body Murder’ day looks like, when I’m done.

Shirts With Sayings

I am all about gym clothes.  I always have been.  There is something to be said about lounging in a pair of yoga pants and a comfy top.  Did you see what I wrote?  Lounging around.

I’m going to take you on a wee journey through my experience buying a shirt, and then some self actualization.  The time frame for this story is prior to my recent weight loss; When I was still squishy, and padded, and could sit on my ass.

So, I’m in need of a new work out shirt.  I have some ideas of the shape that I want (something to hide the fat), and I know that I want it to be sleeveless.   Gotta show off them guns, am I right?!  I head to Old Navy (where you too can buy cheap shit and replace it next month), and walk straight to the work out section.  After perusing the many options, I end up picking a shirt with some dumb saying on it.  You know those shirts.  The ones that say stupid shit like, ‘Gym Hair, Don’t Care’, ‘Rest Later’, ‘Running Late Is My Cardio’.  You get the point.  It was stupid, like those.

I buy the shirt, and bring it home.  Now, fast forward to attempting to wear it.  It was a Monday, and I was getting ready for work.  I am a nanny, so I get the privilege of wearing gym clothes to work every day, so I pull on my yoga pants, and take my new shirt out of the drawer.  I put it on, and look in the mirror, and I think I am a fraud.  No, really.  I think the shirt said something like ‘Work It Out‘.  Now, I work for parents who are ridiculously healthy and athletic.  All I could think was, ‘I am going to walk into their house wearing a shirt that says ‘Work It Out’ in a size XXL, and look like a total fucking moron’.

So, I took the shirt off, and sold it online.  That was the end of it.

still don’t think I could wear a shirt that says anything like that, even though I really do work my ass off.  There IS however, ONE shirt that I found that would be absolutely perfect for me (and my trainer 100% agrees).  #buyitforme #amazonprime

I have actually said these words, many many times.

I have actually said these words, many many times.

 

In my search for the correct image of the shirt that I want, I came across a few with sayings that were just too ridiculous not to share.

  • I Work Out Because I’m Ugly
  • I Do It For The Pizza
  • Cardio Is Hardio
  • Exercise? I Thought You Said Extra Fries
  • I Work Out Because Punching People Is Frowned Upon (ok, I actually like, and secretly want, this one)

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.