Archive for September, 2009
…when she weighed me today.
Back story.
This was my first full week of workouts with my trainer (Jen). I only had two workouts last week, so my goal this week was to make it through all three of them without dying. So far, so good. I felt really good about how I was doing, until she leveled me up – basically, I think she was seeing what I could handle and is now prepared to disassemble me into a pile of goo. In a good way. I’ve had to stop a few times to catch my breath and for water, but Jen says that’s normal and doesn’t make me feel bad for needing it, so I’m grateful for that. However, I do feel bad because I feel like I’m wasting time by doing that – so, when I do have to stop, that’s always in the back of my mind and makes me keep going.
I have been sore everywhere. I think my pinkietoe was sore the other day. I even made it through an ab workout with a stomachache.
The nutrition part has been a challenge for me. I feel like I’m literally eating all the freakin time, and I’m eating more than I used to, so I feel full all the time. It’s hard for me to keep my calories and protein up where they should be – can you believe that? ME! I’m having trouble eating enough! It’s proof to me, though, that my body was probably in starvation mode before and just not burning anything.
So why did I tell Jen to shut the fuck up?
Because when she weighed me, I had my eyes closed but I told her to tell me what it was.
Since last Tuesday, I’ve lost 5.2 pounds.
I still can’t believe it. Jen was even impressed, judging by her excited tone. I wasn’t expecting much of anything, I’d even prepared myself for gain because I’m supposed to be adding muscle to replace the fat. Because of that, Jen said that I’ve probably lost more – but since muscles weighs more than fat does, the scale said 5.2 pounds.
I can’t believe it’s actually happening. I can’t believe I’m finally doing it! I feel -good- about this program – it’s healthy, it’s based on simple facts, and apparently, it’s working.
When I got off of work, I totally wanted a Blizzard from DQ.
I could TASTE the damn thing, and it took the greatest show of force EVAR to not steer into their drive-thru.
But, I didn’t do it. I rationalized it by telling myself that I’m not swearing off Blizzards forever, just for now. Instead I came home, finished the laundry (and put it away, omg), did the dishes, made a rockin dinner for myself of tilapia, green beans and taters, made my lunch for tomorrow and got my workout stuff ready.
I feel pretty good about myself right now.
*preen*
I just finished the second of my first two workout’s with my trainer.
I feel AWESOME.
I feel so proud of myself. Prouder than I can remember being. I will REALLY be proud next week, when I finished a full week of workouts, but still. I am full of the awesomes.
I’m not allowed to watch fat shows.
You know the ones – mostly on TLC about the Half-Ton Mom/Dad/Teen/Pet Turtle. The science of obesity shows, where people’s struggles and stories are laid out to dissect and….yeah.
If I watched them, I would nearly always end up crying. There would always be this soul-sucking sense of guilt – this horror that I COULD BE LIKE THEM…I could be the one that had to be cut from the house. I could be the one showing up on TV with a sheet covering me because nothing else would. I could be the one with soaked sheets from the water being squeezed out of my cells by the fat overwhelming them and the fecal matter under my nails because I just couldn’t reach.
It may seem strange, but it felt like I was only one step away. This existance was attainable, approachable, and unavoidable to me.
Last night, I watched the Biggest Loser. I watched the entire 2 hour episode, and didn’t cry once. I did not feel that overwhelming dread, I did not feel guilt. I did connect with the contestants – not because of their weight, but because of their determination and fight. I looked at them and said “If they can do it, I can stick with this program.”
So, I’m gonna. My goal is to loose 100 pounds. And right now, THAT existance is attainable, approachable, and unavoidable to me. It feels strange…but good.
This is more of a reminder to myself…I’ve been thinking a lot about personal responsibility. It’s really amazing how many aspects of your life it touches.
Today, I signed up with a personal trainer. I sat for an hour and listened to him explain his philosophy, and I have to say that it really does sound realistic and…do-able. I really think that if I can do what he says, then I’ll succeed.
I cried during the consultation. I’m sure I’m not the first person to do that, but I hate being that person.
One thing that he said that I particularly liked was that he saw failure as an opportunity. I usually do too – my problem comes with motivation. But, I think that being held accountable for my own success is going to help.
Can you tell I’m a little braindead? Yes, frog has no thoughts right now.
I did get to have all the sex this afternoon. The kind that makes you start giggling when it’s over because it was fun. Then Moose fell asleep, and he was pinching my nipples in his sleep. *aw* It was cute.
We’ve been having good conversations about the state of our dynamic lately – ever since Spankfest. Last night we explored a little bit of things that he especially likes and what he doesn’t (as in, he won’t be punching me any time soon). It was interesting because I don’t think I’ve ever really asked about those things, and now, I just want to do whatever he wants.
I usually call my girl when I get off work. We talk about our days, but mostly about random stuff because normally we’ve been emailing back and forth most of the day. Take a guess as to what exactly we’re talking about in this conversation snippit:
Her: …but all the ones I’ve played with have had small buttons.
Me: Well, what about mine?
Her: I don’t remember your buttons.
-pause-
Her: I mean, I remember THOSE buttons, but not these buttons.
Me: -laughing hysterically-
Sooooo. Guess what I’ve done this past weekend?
Well, at least I finally got my car cleaned out from Spankfest. Good lord. I wasn’t sure that all that stuff could fit into my Fit, even though it SAYS you can fit a Llama in the backseat. (I swears, I have pictures. It’s in the broshure.) So finally it’s out of my car and…piled up in my house. Yay. BUT – we did take it to the car wash and hosed it down, which made me happy. Shiny Fit = happy frog.
I asked to wear my leash for a little bit yesterday, too. =)
I’ve decided that this week, I’m going to go and sign up with an exercise coach that works in the town I work in. I am extremely motivated to loose weight by the next Spankfest – so hopefully this will be the catalyst I need.
Something strange happened to me today. I went upstairs to get dressed (since we spend most of the time at home naked), and I happened to look at the mirror. Usually, I would scrunch up my face and literally count the things wrong with me – but this time, I happened to focus on the curve of my hip. I tilted my head to the side, and I realized that it was kind of pretty.
I know, right?
Maybe…things are changing. I know that I’m definitely motivated to loose weight before the next Spankfest, but I’ve always been more motivated in general when I’m at least a little happy with the way I look currently. Like…there’s possibilities, almost.
It really was a huge leap for me…in a small kind of way.
My own rundown of Spankfest isn’t as fun as kaya’s is, but for a first toe-dip after 4+ years, I was pretty pleased.
No matter I acted like a complete asshat when I finally got to meet her. *ignores*
I bought a chainmail leash because Darrin liked it (and it’s shiiiiiiiny), and it was so nice wearing something -heavy- like that again. I’ve always have a fetish for metal restraints…seriously, if someone slapped tiny little plastic cuffs on me, I’d have the sads. Give me steel that there is no way I will get out of. Ever.
So, I was a whore for the leash most of the weekend. I didn’t “dress” up at all – hell, I went to one of the evening events in my pyjamas. But I was rockin the leash, ya’ll. Holla.
The biggest thing for me was actually being able to get into a cage. Cages do such wonderful things for me…to me. It’s very easy for me to get to a primal, reactive state in a cage, and the only reason I can think of is that I know that I’m in the one place I’m supposed to be in, and there’s not too much you can fuck up while you’re in a cage. It’s comforting, and it makes room in my head for the whore to come out and howl.
So, I broke out the Hello Kitty coloring book and colored to my heart’s content. =)
Not really a whore moment, but I think I’m just working my way up. Gotta start somewhere.
I saw a LOT of beautiful people there. I saw a girl that reminded me of my wife, and I saw a girl (I didn’t get her name, but she was in the outdoor showers at the same time I was) who had the most amazing body with gorgeous, REAL curves. A few people inspired dirty thoughts in my head, and a few even inspired me enough to share them with Darrin, who was gleefully (can a Moose be gleeful? I dunno. But he was.) enjoying every moment.
I definitely came away with some crushes. =)