When you go through a break up, at anytime of your life, whether it be a divorce or just a breakup from a boyfriend, you find yourself standing in front of the mirror going "what the heck went wrong?" You might check your breath, turn sideways and look at your profile, check your eyebrows for stray hairs, suck your lips in to see if they are pouty enough, in short you analyze every inch of yourself and become quite tough on yourself. You might strip down to your skimpiest panties and best bra, and turn sideways, suck in your stomach, tilt your hips in a way that gives your sciatic nerve a wake up call. You look at your ass, check the cellulite on your legs, tousle your hair, put some lipstick on, tell yourself "it's not that bad." I then pull out my comfiest pj's, grab a glass of wine and sit down to watch the biggest loser. "if these people can go on t.v. to do it, so can I."
I have vowed to lose weight and get into great shape at many different times in my life. I have gotten subsciptions to Shape magazine, only to sit on the back patio, drink a beer and look at the girls on the pages and bitch about how they have personal trainers and nothing but celery in their fridges. I make excuses like "I just don't have time." or "there is no way I can get up early enough to work out, I can barely make it to the bathroom without falling over. But there is a way to get yourself in shape, and it is beyond what Billy Blanks and his fist pumping people could ever get me to do...it is called revenge.
I have always been a bigger girl. Not big in a "wow you really need to lose some weight" but big in a "tallest girl in the class can you reach that top portion of the blackboard for me." kind of girl. It is something that I talked a lot about in my blog "mirror image." I was always an athlete, so weight was not an issue to me until I moved to Park City and used the altitude and lack of being able to breath as a reason not to work out. I could barely walk up the stairs of the hotel I worked at while giving tours, much less put on some running shoes and go out for a quick 20 mile jog. There was either too much snow on the ground, too much laundry to do, or to much beer to drink. Either way you look at it, by the time I met my ex husband, I was about 185 lbs and a comfy size 16. At 5'11, that is pushing it just a bit.
When I became single, I figured it was time to start being healthy. I joined a woman's only gym, the kind where if a maintenance guy walked through the lobby, a voice came over the loudspeaker that said "attention ladies, but a male will be walking through the gym in two minutes." Women would stop mid stride on the tread mill and stop as if Santa Claus was walking through. After about a year of working out amongst only woman, a male friend of mine asked why I was working out at a gym with no guys. I mentioned that I felt very comfortable there, and it was nice to not have to worry about what you looked like. "isn't that the point of going to a gym? To look better?" I thought about what he said and realized that he was right...I was past the point of hiding and found that a year into my woman's only experience, working out with the Jane Fonda crowd, it was time for me to join the land of the testosterone. I joined Gold's Gym and immediately found a new pressure to look good.
No longer was it acceptable to wear pajamas to the gym. I now belonged to a place with hot guys that were sweaty and lifting heavy shit. Guys that looked good and woman that sucked their stomachs in. I found myself doing my hair and making sure my shirt matched my shorts. I drank energy drinks and didn't smoke in the parking lot before my work out. My water bottle was trendy and I purchased new running shoes that supposedly made my butt resemble someone from Dancing with the Stars.
The gym had all sorts of great classes that I could join. I am sure they are all really strenuous as I sit on my treadmill and vow to increase the number to higher that 3 mph. The woman in the classes all look really rested and appear to have nanny's at home to watch their kids. I imagine their husbands are loosening their ties while they take the roast out of the oven and sling a towel over their shoulders. They are holding the baby in one hand while they vacuum with the other. I will retrieve a germ ridden child from the day care and take him out for a donut after we are done. These woman will feed their kids garbanzo bean flavored ice milk and tofu for dinner. I will feed my son something that comes with a toy. I did not belong in those rooms. There was no time for me to "grab a coffee" after the class or to sit in the sauna. I will continue to watch them sweat and read my shape magazine from the comfort of my 3.0 treadmill.
During my attempt to get in shape and attract the man that I always deserved, I have been the queen of get in shape impulse buys. I have a step that I purchased with a step aerobics video, it sits behind my couch since the day I bought it. Sometimes I stand on it to reach the box of twinkies I have at the top of my pantry. I have weights that range from 6 lbs to 15 lbs. They hold various doors open in my apartment in the event of windy afternoons. I have resistance bands that are hidden at the bottom of my son's toy box. Workout videos that feature movie stars, reality stars, dancing stars and super skinny robot like woman that say things like "good job, you are doing great." How do they know how good I am doing? I am laying on the floor on my back, screaming in pain at how much my stomach hurts after 2 sit ups. Are you telling me that THIS is a positive thing? I have a trampoline that I bought for work out purposes, it is now a form of entertainment for my 6 year old. My pantry holds a giant container of protein powder which only made me want to put in shakes that included items like frozen custard and oreo cookies.
I have gone back and forth between the battle of "I will work out and eat whatever I want." to "I will eat healthy because who has time to work out?" I also am a big fan of the excuse "I am on my feet all day, I think that is equivalent of me running a marathon everyday." Many times I will eat something really healthy, only to kick back with a camel light and a couple of beers at the end of the day. How rewarding!!
A great motivation for losing weight is to meet someone. You go to the bar, you meet a hot guy, and on your way home you stop at whole foods to buy some quinoa and hummus. The next day you wake up and run 2 miles, you come home and eat egg whites, drink coffee with skim milk, throw out your box of coco puffs and dine on tic tacs and ice chips for dinner. Later that evening, you can be seen through the blinds of your window doing one push up and running to your full length mirror to check out the result.
I am now four years into my single hood. I have gone from 185 lbs at my heaviest, to 245 lbs the day I gave birth to my son, down to my current weight of 160 lbs. This is a good weight for me. I still have my gym membership. It makes my key chain look trendy. I still have the various work out gear strewn about my house, it is good to fend off anyone if they were to break in, and I still have the work out videos that will continue to make me feel fat. But all in all, I feel great about myself. I may not have a six pack, I may not look like I belong on the cover of shape magazine but damn I feel good about myself. I feel better than I have in years, and I for the first time in my life purchased a two piece bathing suit that actually shows my stomach. I stay fit by eating in moderation and never ever skip dessert. I took a marker and wrote on my digital scale my goal weight, that way I always stay the same.
There are a lot of people who have time to live the gym rat lifestyle. These people don't go to work until 9am and have three and a half hour lunch breaks where they can get a "quick mile in" before their afternoon meeting. I stand at a prep table and eat lunch at 3:45 pm.
I don't need a scale to tell me if I am in good shape. I simply stand naked in front of the mirror and check to see if my ass is starting to need it's own zip code. I do sit ups when my son pats my stomach and says "mom, I didn't know you were having a baby." and I will hit the gym when my ex looks me up and down and asks me if I have been too busy to work out lately.
I can spend tons of money at a gym, or a hundred bucks on new shoes, but NOTHING compares to putting your pants on right out of the dryer and having them fit without having to do the Pilate's pants move. You know, the one where you lay on your back, put your pants on, then squat, put one leg behind your back, then break into the Chinese splits? Yeah, that one.
whatever your motivation, find what's right for you. Whether it be when your significant other looks at you and you take their breath away or when you are able to take the letter "x" away from any of your clothing sizes. Maybe it's when you stand up and wrap your arms around your boyfriend and he puts his hands on your hips and you don't have to suck it in. Maybe it's the stranger that looks at you and says "you need to eat something" and you find yourself putting them into your will. Whatever your motivation, do what it takes to make you feel good.
If worse comes to worse, you can always throw cheeseburgers at the skinny bitch on the treadmill.
