A despreate plea on behalf of my trainer

I'm making a desperate plea to all fellow gym-goers out there.

For the love of God and all things holy...

RE-RACK YOUR WEIGHTS.

CLEAN UP AFTER YOUR DAMN SELF.

If you want to see a generally kind, patient, positive, and sweet man (or any gym employee/polite gym-goer, really) get even a little bit annoyed, by all means, leave your weights on the machine.  Hell, leave them on the floor!  Re-rack multiple weights of plates on the same bar (this is most effective if you put 5lb plates under/before like 35-45lb plates). 

Mind you, this same man had the patience to tolerate listening to my whiny voice for 30 straight minutes today without acting upon his probable desire to smack me in the face to shut me up (but come ON, he made me do thrusters.  THRUSTERS, Y'ALL.  UGH.  Plus I'm just having one of those days...)...so it's not as if he's easily annoyed.

But what he cannot tolerate is a messy gym.

YOUR MOTHER DOES NOT WORK AT THE GYM.

YOUR CLEANING LADY/MAID DOES NOT WORK AT THE GYM.

And when you leave your crap all over the place for others (ie, employees, myself, other members) to clean up, it leaves me to draw one of five conclusions:

1) You are oblivious.

2) You were raised by wolves.

3) You are an asshole.

4) You are lazy.

5) Any/all of the above.

Ok, well this last one is sexist, but I can see how it would motivate the "bro" population to clean up after their damn selves.

Fat girl shopping

Disclaimers:
1) I am well aware of the fact that as a white American, I am privileged in ways that others are not.  This sucks and is unfair and I know it.
2) I am not trying to get into a "who's more oppressed than whom" pissing match here, just trying to make a point about something that frustrates me to no end.
3) Bah, humbug.

So.  Picture the last time you went shopping.  Just take a minute and try to recall.  What kind of selection was available in your size?  What part of the store was your size carried in?  Did the clothes designed for your gender stop at a certain size, and send all people bigger or smaller than that to a different part of the store to shop?  How was the lighting?  How did the salespeople treat you?

If you're a dude, there are a wide variety of choices available to you.  And whether you waist is 32 inches or 52 inches, your shirt size XS or XXL, in most stores, you can buy pants off the same clothes rack.  You lucky dog!  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!

If you're an average to below average sized lady, there are a wide variety of choices to you.  There are so many options for athletic wear for you that it often has it's own section of the store.  Bonus!  There are a plethora of brands and styles for you to choose from.  Chances are, if you walk into any store, anywhere (with the exception of plus-sized specialty stores) you can find multiple options in your size.

Another bonus?  Not everything is black!  Average to below average sized ladies are permitted to want colorful things.  You lucky ladies, you!

If you're an above average sized lady, you have known exactly where this was going from the beginning.

Our section of the store is about  1/4-1/3 the size of the "regular" sized ladies clothes, if we're lucky.  A sizable percentage of the options in the section are black, grey, navy, or brown (why would you want to draw attention to your fat by wearing bright colors?).  We are stuffed into the back of the store (why would you want to draw attention to fat people by making their clothing visible?).  If any athletic wear is offered in our size, there is generally one brand available and one rack of it (for example, in the sprawling cacophony that is Scheels, there is exactly one rack of Nike plus-sized athletic wear.  At Target, Kohls, and Younkers, there are exactly zero racks of plus-sized athletic wear.  In Shopko, there is exactly one rack of Energy Zone athletic wear.  I could go on, but you get it).  After all, fatties must not workout or they wouldn't be so fat, right?  RIGHT?

And if you live in a smaller town, things get worse.

When I lived in Door County, I had to drive for an hour JUST TO BUY  BRAS THAT FIT ME.  That's right.  The closest bras that fit my body at that time were in Green Bay.

When I was home for Christmas this year, about 70lb lighter than when I lived in Door County, I wanted new sweatpants, because my old sweatpants fit me 70lb ago and made me look like a hobo.  Even being several sizes smaller (but still a fat girl by all standards, really), I had to go to three stores to find a pair of suitable sweatpants.  SWEATPANTS.  I was not exactly seeking high-fashion...I just wanted something soft to wear to sit on the couch and watch Twilight Zone re-runs.

But seriously.

There are a lot of cute little boutique stores close to my apartment, and I like to window-shop (and sometimes actual-shop).  These boutiques are tiny, have a tiny selection (as most boutiques do, hence the name), with a tiny size offering (small and medium, large if they're feeling generous), and exorbitant prices.  But it's fun to go.  They also sell shoes and bags and household items and things that are accessible to my fat self.

My experience when shopping at these places has been fucking horrible.

If you are fat and walk into Hey, Daisy! for example, the employees will look at you, pause, and then go right back to talking to each other without so much as saying hello.  This happened once and I was annoyed.  This happened again, and I was infuriated.  So I decided to do an experiment.  Of all the specialty shops downtown that sell clothing, exactly one was welcoming and friendly when my fat self walked in (Thanks, Beatnik Betty's!).  The others must have decided that fat money doesn't spend the same and disregarded me.  Yes, I am aware that I will never ever ever fit into your clothing, but there are entire sections of your little store dedicated to things that I might have liked in my life.  That is, until you decided you didn't want my money.  I'm all about supporting local businesses, but downtown Appleton really needs to step up it's customer service game.


Again, I am aware that there are worse atrocities than being shoved to the back of the store to buy a limited selection of shapeless black clothing, and being treated poorly in a retail store.  I KNOW.

I've written about this before.  Why am I revisiting it?  Because it is still happening.  Because it sucks.

Also, because as I get closer and closer to not needing to shop in the fat girl section any more, I get more and more pissed that a fat girl section exists.  It's sizeist and sexist that my father and my husband, with their very different body sizes, can buy pants, belts, and shirts off the same clothing rack, and that my BFF and I, with our different body sizes, can't.  We have to go to opposite ends of the store to get every single garment except shoes.  Sometimes, we have to go to entirely different stores.

Double standard.

Not cool.

Resolutions

It's that magical time of year again.  That time were we flit from party to party, gorging cookies and fudge and Christmas crack and Dutch babies and ham and potatoes and we eat more butter than Paula Deen and more sugar than Wilford Brimley.

Yeeeeeeeeee Haw!

 The spirit of the season, for me, is being with family and loved ones...which frequently seems to revolve around food.  We go to my in-laws house for lunch, my parents house for dinner, co-workers bring delicious treats to work, neighbors bake cookies.  

How in the world do we justify this?

Well, for some of us, this is how we eat all the time, so it's just another day/week/season.

For others, we somehow have the willpower to resist everything delicious and unhealthy that's put in front of is.

And yet others live a primarily healthy lifestyle but have a holiday free-for-all.  Why?

SWEET, GLORIOUS, NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS ARE COMING!

Yes!  That moment when you wake up on January 1st, the whole glorious year ahead of you, is amazing.  It feels like a clean slate!  Every mistake, silly thing, "cheat" day, skipped workout, foul remark, sin, whatever that you participated in over the last year seems like a distant memory...it might as well not exist any more.  You are perfect and your track record is unblemished.  New year, new start.

Remember that scene in Forrest Gump when Forrest and Lieutenant are celebrating New Years with Cunning Carla and Long Limbs Lenore?

You can almost smell the stale cigarette smoke and Dr.Pepper fumes, can't you?

Well, either Carla or Lenore (which one, I haven't the slightest) has a great line, even though she's only in the movie for like 2 minutes.  She says to Forrest:

 "Don't you just love New Years?  You get to start all over again.  Everybody gets a second chance."

And it's so true.  "New year, new me" is the motto of so many people I know.  New Year's Resolutions is one of my most and least favorite traditions.  I've never really gotten in to NY Resolutions - I've always been more of a birthday resolutions type of gal.  For me, turning another year older is a fitting time to try to make a positive change; especially one you've been thinking about for a loooooong time but haven't had the motivation/courage/gumption/ability to try to achieve.  But that's just me.  Lots of people are gung-ho about their NY Resolutions.  And really, ANY time is a fitting time to make a positive change in your life...but New Year's is a milestone date, and people take the opportunity to make promises to themselves.

Preach it, Morpheus.

Until about a month in.  Maybe more if they're REALLY dedicated.  And then a lot of people fall off the resolution wagon.

I looked up some statistics on New Year's Resolutions from the Journal of Clinical Psychology (and no, I will not cite it in APA format).  Apparently 75% of individuals last through one week of their new resolution.  Seventy-one percent last two weeks, 64% make it through an entire month, and only 46% are succeeding at their resolutions after six months or more.

Forty-six percent.  Less than half of us who make resolutions will be successful at six months, and my guess is, even less will be successful long-term.

Why?

THINGS GET IN THE WAY.

We have jobs.  We have wives or husbands or partners or girlfriends or boyfriends or significant others.  We have kids.  We have dogs or cats or parakeets or potbelly pigs or horses or lizards or hedgehogs.  We have houses to maintain.  We have bills to pay.  We have graduate school.  We like to marathon Netflix in our spare time.

In short: We have lives.  Busy, exhausting, stressful lives.  

Another way of putting this:  We do not make ourselves a priority.

Yet another way of putting this:  Some of us thrive on martyrdom and don't ask for help/support when we need it.

We ABSOLUTELY need to make ourselves a priority.  And we ABSOLUTELY need a support system.

I've had a huge mind frame shift this past year, where I'm treating myself like the "leading lady" of my life for the first time, and it's amazing.  

Don't get me wrong...sometimes my "wants" still come after others' "needs."  When my husband is sick and needs me to go to CVS for cough drops and Theraflu instead of getting a second workout in, I do it.  When my dog needs to be walked so I have to take a study break, I do it.  When a co-worker's child is in town from across the country for only a few days, I pick up her shift so she can spend time with him.  But it's all give and take.  When I'm sick, Jeff brings me pho and tea.  Taco rewards me in snuggles and by being adorable.  My co-workers are so flexible and help me out by picking up extra shifts when my sister is in town (and during finals week).  So I'm not saying be a selfish a-hole 100% of the time.  You have to make others your first priority at times.  That pretty much goes without saying.

However, we need to set goals for ourselves and make them a high priority in our lives.  And we need to surround ourselves with people who support our goals and ideally, share our goals.

When I told my husband I wanted to go back to school, we both went about making my success in school a high priority in our lives.  My husband got a new job so we could move to Appleton, I got a job in Appleton, we found a place to live in the area.  We decided to put the quest for a human baby on hold, but decided to get a dog so we'd still have something cuddly to come home to (that's slightly lower-maintenance than a human child.  Slightly).  I made sure my work hours would work around school, he made sure his work hours would allow him to occasionally see his wife.  My success in school is a high priority for both of us because it affects both of our lives.

The same thing happened with getting healthy.  When I was given my ATF membership (thanks Jen, my queen!) and we started seeing a nutritionist, we both started eating better and calling the other one out on unhealthy habits.  When we inadvertently sabotage ourselves or each other, we talk about it.  Eventually, Jeff saw how freakishly strong I was getting and decided to join the gym, too, before I could beat him at arm wrestling (kidding...this may or may not be why he joined.  Also, I will never beat that monster at arm wrestling).

I consider my friends and family a big part of why I've been so successful at last year's birthday resolution.  They support my goals and several of them are either trying to get healthier or living insanely healthy lifestyles already.  It really does help!  

And no, I'm not saying to give up your friends and get new ones.  If your resolution is to quit smoking, by no means do you have to stop hanging out with your smoker friends.  But you do need at least one person in your corner who doesn't smoke or who has successfully quit smoking, to cheer you on and back you up.  They will be your sounding board and motivator.  They'll put you in check if/when you mess up.  They are an integral part of your success.

I'm lucky, I have a LOT of people around to keep me accountable.  The gift-giver, Jen.  Do I want to let her money and time go to waste?  HELL to the no.  Likewise for my nutritionist and trainer...if I don't follow their instructions and do what they tell me to do at home and at the gym, I'm essentially wasting their time and straight up disrespecting them.  I frequently ask myself "What would Amanda/Donovan do?"  I want to be alive, mobile, and healthy for as long as possible to keep being ridiculous with my husband, besties, sibs, and parents, so they're motivating, also.  Even my dog keeps me in check...he needs daily walks and I need to find the time and energy to do it.  And despite his teeny little legs, that fool is FAST.

The moral of the story is this.  Set a resolution if you want.  Or change today.  Whatever works for you to set and achieve your goals!  Any time is a fantastic time to make positive changes in your life.  Whether that includes fitness or not, strive to be even more awesome in 2015!  Find yourself a support system that will help you meet your goals.  You are worth the time and energy and I hope you can find a way to prioritize your goal this year!  

One last comment: Fellow gym-goers, I know January can be frustrating.  The gym is flooded with newbies.  The squat rack is always taken (usually by somebody curling).  Your trainer is booked out for weeks and there's even a wait for cardio machines.  

Welcome, resolution gym-goers!  I hope you stick around so I'm not the new kid any more :)

Two things to keep in mind: 

1) As stated above, 54% of the resolution gym-goers will be gone in 6 months (which may make you happy but actually is pretty depressing when you think about it).  So hang in there, you'll have the gym to yourself all too soon.

2) You were new once, too.  Be patient and don't be a butthead.  Hope they stick with it so in a few months, they'll know what they're doing and can spot you.

Done and done.

Comfort Zone

I like my comfort zone.  A lot.

It's comfy (hence the name).  I know everybody in it.  I can wear my sweatpants there and there's usually chocolate.

Here's the thing though.

Nothing new or exciting happens there.

Sometimes, that's ok.  Comfort and stability aren't necessarily bad!  In fact, they're two of the things my marriage is built on (along with ridiculous goofiness, fiery debates, trust, and gin cocktails).

But if you stay in it all the time, things will get stagnant.

To make a change, you need to get the hell out of your comfort zone.  Whether the change is in your health, your education, your career, your family, or whatever it is that needs alteration in your life...it's not going to happen if you're sitting in your comfort zone wearing sweatpants and eat chocolate.

Believe me, I know.

It's not easy, and it's not always fun.  I may well be the most awkward human to ever grace the earth.  I make people feel less weird about themselves just by being naturally awkward and bizarre.  )It's ok, I own it.  And you're welcome, everyone).  I've made a complete ass of myself stepping out of my comfort zone more times than I care to count or recall.

Take it from me, the queen of awkward.

There are a shit ton of memes about leaving your comfort zone.  As you may have noticed by reading previous blog posts, I am a big fan of memes.  I find some of them hilarious and perfect for my purposes.  (See above.)

Also, I find some of them corny as hell and not entirely accurate.  This, for example:

100% FALSE.

LIES.  Life does not begin at the end of your comfort zone.  A good portion of your life can be lived successfully in your happy little comfort bubble.  Part of your life SHOULD be lived in your comfort zone, or you will probably die of a stroke by age 30.  Too much stress is not good, and stepping out of your comfort zone is stressful as shit (at least for me...but again, I'm anxious and awkward).  

This one, however cheesy, I find to be partially true:

Only partially true...I'll get to that.

I do like that slice of cheesy goodness above, but like I said, It's only partially true.  Why?

THERE IS NOTHING MAGICAL ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS OUTSIDE OF YOUR COMFORT ZONE.  

It's not magic, it's hard fucking work.  

It's blood, sweat, tears, tears, more tears, hard work, more sweat, unfortunate facial expressions, that dream where you show up to school on the first day naked, anxiety, falling on your face, more sweat, and possibly some more blood.

It's also not 100% unicorns and rainbows.  If it was, nobody would be in their comfort zone, ever, because being out of it would be too spectacular and amazing...and then "out of the comfort zone" would become "the comfort zone" and vice versa, and that is some Inception shit that I can't even handle right now.

We put a comfort zone inside your comfort zone so you can comfort zone while you comfort zone and my brain just exploded.

Anyway, here's the point:

Don't feel badly about lurking in your comfort zone.  It's nice and warm and cozy in there.  I love my comfort zone.  

But don't be afraid to get out there and shake it up.  I guarantee, if you do, your life will change.  I can't guarantee that all the changes will be amazing.  Some of them might suck. 

The only person I can speak for is myself, and mine have been frickin amazing.

I get it, you're "too busy"

Seriously, y'all.  I am exhausted.  ALLLLLLL the time.  Too much on my plate.  Burning the candle at both ends.  Full-time employee.  Full-time student.  Full-time wife.  Full-time mom (yes, my dog counts, shut up). Full-time ass kicker.  6 days a week in the gym.


 And I swear to God and sonny Jesus, if one more parent says to me "You think you're busy?  Just wait until you have kids, then you'll REALLY know what busy is!" I'm going to punch them in the throat.  Yes, I am aware that kids are quite the time suck.  Yes, I am aware that being a mom is "the most important job in the world" (thanks for invalidating my life, BTW...in spite of my fruitless uterus, I am aware that mothers are important).  You chose to have children, and I'm sure it's been an excellent choice for you, just as I am choosing the priorities in my life, and they are fantastic.  Guess what isn't on my list of priorities, ever, at all.  Lectures from sanctimommies.  SEACREST OUT.  RANT OVER.  MIC DROP.


But I digress.


What can I say, I like to be busy.

I try not to glorify it, because I don't always feel like it's the healthiest.  Certainly my stress level is nothing to envy.

What's the point?

Throughout my entire adulthood, I've felt this busy all the time.  But I really haven't been.

Working on my undergrad degree at UWSP, I felt SO STRESSED.  Trying to graduate with a decent GPA while working 15 whole hours a week and working out 3x weekly was quite the task.  How would I EVER be able to do that?
Quick math: 15 credit hours of class per week + 15 (ish) hours of work + 3 hours of working out = 33 hours of committed time each week.  This means I had 135 hours of free time.  135 mother effing hours to sleep, and study, and eat, and hang out with my friends.  135 glorious hours.  Every.  Dang.  Week!
Not sure why I felt so busy when I spent most of the free-time I didn't think I had hitting the bong and drinking gin (note to all, especially co-workers and my trainer: I NO LONGER HIT THE BONG.  Please don't judge me.  My early 20's were spent in a marijuana-clouded stupor, but I really like my nursing license so that shit was cut from the roster).

When I moved to the Marshall Islands was probably the only time in my adult life when I haven't felt stressed by responsibilities.  My responsibilities there included: 1) show up to teach, 2) try to be on time, but if you're not, nobody really cares, 3) have something planned for the kids to do, 4) don't show the kids your knees, EVER, or they will think you're a prostitute, 5) have a pulse, 6) try not to die of dysentery.  It was pretty awesome.

Flash to nursing school: 12 credit hours of class per week + 16 hours of clinicals + 24 hours of work = 52 hours of committed time.  Even during nursing school, which every nurse who ever lived will tell you is the worst thing ever, I had 116 hours of unaccounted time each week.  I can tell you why I felt so busy with so much "free time," it all boils down to nursing care plans and memorizing medications.  Blerg.

Fast forward to now.

12 credit hours per week + 32 work hours per week = 44 hours of committed time each week.  (Truthfully, I have 50 committed hours, because I count my gym time as a commitment, not "free time.") I have 124 hours to sleep, cook, play with my dog, study, hang out with my husband, work out, etc.  I feel insanely busy, because again...I spend the majority of this free time studying.

But here's the point...

Everybody is given the exact same 24 hours per day to spend how they choose.

Nobody is guaranteed how many of these 24 hour periods they will get.

You can choose how to spend your days.

If you want to spend them laying on your couch watching Knight Rider re-runs, no judgement.  That actually sounds pretty awesome.  If you choose to spend them reading Hyperbole and a Half and screening your phone calls, invite me over.  If you choose to spend your "free time" asleep, with your kids, macrame-ing yourself a pair of jean shorts, cosplaying Twilight, teaching your dog to fetch your slippers, streaking down College Avenue, smoking crack, protesting, setting fireworks off at inappropriate times, or any other frickin weird hobby you may have, that's your prerogative.

"We're going streaking!  Through the quad, into the gymnasium!  You come too...bring your green hat!"
*NOTE: if this is your hobby, you are hilarious and I want to be best friends with you.  One of my best friends used to like to streak and flash back in our college days, and she is my favorite.  You could be my favorite, too (just saying)*

But I don't want to hear that you're "too busy" to work out or cook yourself healthy meals.

Guess what.
You're not.
You're just choosing to spend your time differently.

And that's fine.  Like I said, it's your life and you have every right to spend it however you want.  I am just growing weary of parents, students, newlyweds, business-owners, and people from pretty much all walks of life telling me they are "too busy" to make their health a priority.  That is straight-up bullshit.

Saying you are "too busy" is a weak excuse which will not be tolerated.  So if you use that excuse with me, be prepared to be called out on it.*

*Unless you are a single parent of 8 who works 90 hours a week and manages a menagerie of 35 pets by yourself while juggling chainsaws and simultaneously recovering from major abdominal surgery. Then you probably don't have time.  Everyone else though...

Finances

I haven't been able to post much recently because school, while amazing, is sucking up all my free time and brain cells.  I have a love-hate relationship with school, just like I have with working out.  At the time, It can be terrible...it's exhausting and hard and frustrating at times when I can't do something or can't figure something out.  But I know it's making me better and I love how I feel when I accomplish something, so I keep doing it.

So here's the scoop.  I've been working out with my trainer for almost 5 months now.  Which is amazing...sometimes I feel like I just started out (which I know in the grand scheme of things, I did) and at times I feel like I've been doing this forever.  It's become a habit...if I go more than one day between workouts, I feel icky and weird and sluggish and kind of gross.  I've learned some valuable lessons, such as (TMI alert, if you're squeamish about lady problems, move on to the next paragraph) you shouldn't avoid it when you have the worst fucking menstrual cramps of your life, because it will actually make them better.  Maybe days when you feel dizzy aren't the best days to try to do a bunch of burpees.  And for the love of God, EAT SOMETHING BEFORE YOU GO TO THE GYM.

But I'm super scared right now.  I only have one more month with my trainer.  Well, I should say one more sponsored month before I have to figure out how to pay for his services, because I want to keep him.  And when I say I want to keep him, I should be saying I need to...let's be honest, I need the push and the accountability.

As many of you know or may someday find out, getting healthier can be hella expensive.  Don't get me wrong, it's the best money I've ever spent (aside from my nursing degree and my travels).  But nutritionist visits, constant new clothes/alteration of current clothes, future gym membership payments (my gym is free for me for another 6 months, thank GOD for Jen Mott) and training sessions are expensive.  Plus, I'm paying tuition at a private university for the next 3 years.  Also: bills.  You get the picture, and I'm sure you can relate.

I guess what I'm trying to say is...if you want to get healthy, MAKE THE INVESTMENT.  I'm freaking out right now about how my husband and I are going to financially make this work (P.S. he joined the gym and got a trainer this month, too!  So excited!!!  And so freaked!) but it's such a high priority for us right now that we'll find a way to make this work.  Some of you may remember my blog post from this summer about simplification...well, ditching cable and phones and other things was all part of getting us ready for this crazy expensive fall we're having.

Also...not looking for sympathy, just putting it out there.  A lot of people have commented to me "I wish I could afford the gym/nutrtionist/trainer/etc but I can't."  The point is: we can't either, but this is worth the other sacrifices we're making.  Make yourself a priority.  And maybe, you don't even need a gym or a trainer!  You can youtube lots of fitness stuff and workouts for free, which is great if that's your bag!  I, unfortunately, need people to keep me in check and push my lazy ass past what I want to be doing (which is sitting on my duff watching Parenthood reruns).

Weekend motivation!

When it's like 80 degrees out side, and the weather is sunny and GORGEOUS, it can be hard to find the motivation to go to the gym.  Am I motivated to go every day?  Hell to the no.  But I wake up and tell myself:

And I want to like the answer to this question at the end of the day:

And I remind myself of these things:

And I remember that I love this feeling:

And I remind myself of this:

And if those things don't work, I find something to make me laugh at myself:

The moral of the story?  Yes, it's the weekend.  Yes, it's beautiful outside.  Yes, I am going to the beach later.  But if I don't make it to the gym beforehand, you bet your booty I will haul my sunburned ass there tonight.  Will you?  (GUILT TRIP)

The First Week

Picture it: Sicily; 1932.

Or Appleton, 2014.  April 21st, to be exact.  I got an amazing phone call.  A complete stranger had chosen me as the winner of a contest she was sponsoring, to win a year of free Anytime Fitness membership and 6 months of personal training.  I was so overwhelmed, I'm not even certain I thanked her during the phone call.

So thanks, Jen.  I can't say it enough...and I promise to you that I will pay this forward!

April 24th: I went to ATF to be "presented" with my awesome prize.  It was mortifying and awesome.  In some situations, I am completely comfortable being the center of attention.  Surprisingly, in many situations, I HATE being the center of attention.  This was a weird mix of both.  I made Jeff come to Anytime Fitness with me because I was so freaked out at the prospect of going and meeting a room full of strangers and having a "big deal" made out of myself.  #awkwardsauce (Yes, I know hashtags do not work on blogspot.  It's funnier if you read the "hashtag" part aloud, but I digress).

Anyway, everyone was super nice.  Like, so nice it was hard to believe they are actual humans.  But guess what; they totes are.

On my 32nd birthday, I met with my personal trainer, Donovan, for the first time.  He is excellent.  I was so exhausted after the first session, while at the same time feeling like I did embarrassingly little to be so winded.  Push ups, some chest things, squats (god dammit anyway, ouch), medicine ball slams (I pictured the a-holes on Fair St's heads during that part...it was awesome).  My body felt like Jello when I was done.  Holy shitballs, this is no joke.  I went home and passed out, then asked my husband to beat the shit out of me with a meat tenderizer (no lie, it was awesome).

The next day, I wanted to die.  My EVERYTHING hurt.  Even my toe muscles and earlobes.  I felt like I was 900 years old.

Welcome to Anytime Fitness, I'll be your creaking, ancient mummy.

But I went back to the gym that day anyway, because Donovan told me to.  I HATE when people call me at work for my professional opinion, and then blatantly disregard it, so I promised myself I would do whatever my trainer said to do.

Drop and give me 5 million burpees, woman, and make it snappy!

The next day, I worked out with Donovan again.  This time, in addition to all the shoulder stuff and step ups (yuck x 1 billion), I got to do rope slams.  Holy shit, is THAT fun.  And exhausting.  And fun.  Also, exhausting.  He must know that I have pent up rage under my nice lady exterior, because those rope slams sure are therapeutic.  Again, I imagined the ropes beating the crap out of those Fair St. fuckers with their lame DCShoe hats and saggy pants and hateful words and stupid faces.  Donovan said I could imagine his face...and I said "I still like you."  Kind of makes me wonder what fresh hell he'll have in store for me in the future.



Today, I went in and did cardio again.  But I was hella pissed...my new gym shoes (birthday gift from the hubs, which I tried on and picked out) hurt like a mofo.  My toes were numb and my arches burned like brimstone and hellfire.  I had to stop after only 25 minutes on the treadmill and bike instead of the 45 I had initially planned on.  So I went back to Rogan's and traded them in for a different pair today.  Here's hoping they're more comfy!

Tomorrow I have another amazing date with Donovan at the crack of dawn.


4 days down, a lifetime to go.

#amazeballs