It's a Sunday. Just before 8 I was woken up by the familiarity of a nudge from the cold wet nose of my beloved yellow lab Charlie. The "I have to go out and I can't wait any longer" nudge. "Okay Charlie, Let me get up" I replied as if he could answer me, his ears went up and his tail started wagging. I swear, the best thing a person can have in their life is the love of a dog. I threw the cover's off of me and struggled to sit up, I walked the few steps from the bed to my bathroom, and stopped. The girl standing in front of me, the girl staring back at me from the mirror wasn't a girl I liked. She was hefty, and had gained weight almost every where. Her face was oily and broken out, her hair messy and pulled up in the all too familiar bun she wears every day. When did I become this person?
I have always been a bigger girl. I was cursed with thunder thighs that rubbed together, so I haven't worn shorts, or skirts in the last decade (or more of my life). Not even to bed, not even in my own home. I live in yoga pants that don't go away the knee and various baggy tshirt's. I am 200lbs of miserable, and everything shows. I wasn't always this way. Some how, my weight gain has increased in the last four years. Prior to that I was about 190ish lbs, this was after my pregnancies and c-section's. I was active in high school. I was a cheerleader, I played field hockey and joined the swim team. I danced my little butt off in the under 18 clubs and some other places. Which helped my genetic's. At the end of the day, I have no one to blame but my self. I sat on the couch and ate fast food. I chugged soda's and avoided healthy foods and healthy life style's.
I once read a blog about how you can't be fat and happy. I believe that is true. There isn't any happiness in my life. I find happiness in my children, and their accomplishment's. I find happiness in my marriage, but I am truly unhappy with my self.
You see, I told my self I wasn't going to do this any more. I made up my mind to go work out and lose weight. I did two work outs a day, I ate small meals several times, I drank cups and cups of water. I saw results. But some where along the line, life, and work and kids and stress found me again. The works outs stopped, the eating stopped, and I gained everything I had lost back, plus 15 extra lbs.
So here I am now, a failure. But this morning, something clicked in my mind. I decided that I was going to change it. My health is failing yet I am only 26. When my period stopped coming, I knew I had to change my life and this time I had to stick to it. But not just stick to it, embrace it, obsess over it, and yes, blog about it. That's just what I am going to do . A blog entry for 100 days. 100 days to change my life. So here it goes.
I am 231 lbs, and 5' 3 therefore I am considered obese. Today, I ate a breakfast of carrots with humus, and a banana. Then I went to the gym.
The gym is intimidating, it's filled with people who judge you, and judge them selves, you are forced to run on treadmills placed strategically in front of mirrors. It's terrifying. I am not one to show skin. I hid beneath baggy tshirts, I wear four bras, and yoga pants made of cotton. Not my best choice. Luckily, my home is just a few minutes away from the new community center. Equipt with a work out room, and a tot room. I got to the gym and pulled up my hair in the normal messy pony tail. I put my kids into the play room, used the rest room, and began. I put "How I met your mother" on the tv to distract me, as I jumped on the treadmill. Back in my previous work out routines the treadmill was my favorite, but now, with the extra weight, I am fearful of it. I imagine in my head that I will trip on my shoe lace, or my ankle will give up at the 200lbs of my failure will fall face first on to the moving treadmill. But I started it any way. I walked, just a warm up I thought to my self. I went two laps before I bumped my 2.5 walk to a 4.0 jog. I only last a few minutes before I returned to the 2.5. I would have never allowed that before. I would have ran until I wasn't to pass out until my knees ached and begged for relief of a walk. Now I can't even muster the run. I reached a mile in 21 minutes. I felt bad, but I tried to shake it off and continue.
I sat at the arm weight machine. My arms are huge, and bulgy. They are what some consider cow arms. I hate them, another perfectly hidden body party thanks to my big baggy tshirts. I adjusted the weights. My arms are weak and the work outs hurt. I try to muster 10 of 10 but quit and do 5 of 10 instead. I tell my self I'll do 10 of 10 tomorrow., That'll be my goal. I go to the back machine and do 3 sets of 20 reps with 90lbs. I love this machine. It works wonders on my constantly aching back. My hopes are that this machine will kill my love handle's. The one my husband claims he adore's. I reach 60, and wipe down the machine.
My app c25k finally finished downloading. I check on my kids, they are happily playing with blocks and watching ninja turtles. They won't mind one more work out right? I climb back onto the tread mill, but this time, I peel off the baggy yellow tshirt I wore, and reveal the blue tank top work out shirt I wear secretly. It's just me, just me and my kids. No one will judge the pudgy armed girl on the treadmill when no one is here. I start my app, five minute warm up. I do the work out, by the half way point I am ready to quit. How is week 1 day 1 of C25k so hard? I used to do these work outs every day as a warm up and now I can barely finish. I keep arguing with my self, "just one more Tiff! just one more and your done!" my whole body is sweating, my shirt, and various sports bra as riding and my pants are sweating and clinging to my leg's. My knee hurts, my body aches, and the bouncing my boobs is making is painful. Just five more minutes Tiff....my body agree's. I finish the work out and breath a sigh of relief. I am done. I did it. I finished the work out and I didn't quit, didn't cheat. I am sore, and tired, and sweaty but it's over, and I am glad I did it. I am glad I pushed my self. I sit down to stretch and I giggle. I look as if I had peed my pants, my daughter notices and asks the question. I laugh and say no. She walks away. I stretch my legs and just sit there for a minute thinking, cooling down.
Why did I ever stop this? Why did I ever let my life get so busy, so hectic that this was not a part of my every day routine. That I allowed my self to forget the feeling after a work out, the accomplishment, the endorphins that race through your blood stream and remind you that you are a live. I throw my shirt back on and clean down the equipment. I need a shower, and another bottle of water. I go into the play room to find my babies still playing. How lucky am I that they can occupy themselves for me to exercet every minute I can into my work out. I help them clean up, and head up.
I feel amazing. I remember how much I loved this, how much the pain of the action are laughed about after it's over. I smile, and sing along to songs. My daughter looks at me and smile, she sees the difference too. The mom who is always sleepy, always cranky is gone, and the version I am now is the mom she adores. Why would I give my children any less than this?
It's day 1 of a life long journey. My hope is to lose 100lbs. 131lbs, I don't think that's feasible, I don't think it'll look healthy on me, I'd be happy at 150lbs. I try not to make my goals to big. Right now. I am only hoping to lose 15lbs before our PCS....15lbs in less than 2 months.
Let's do this.
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