When I first started this blog it’d had been focused primarily on weight loss and exercise and Weight Watchers because I’m a fatass who was trying to be less fat. Then it was like… fuck, I’m still fat. I don’t even care, I’m just gonna write about other shit and just push that whole diet blog thing under the rug and everyone will forget and I’ll just be fat and happy, whatever.
Except that I wasn’t and still am not happy. But fat? I got that shit NAILED yo. I could be like the president of fat. I could write a doctoral thesis on how to be fat. Eat whatever shit you want and then don’t do any exercise and watch a bunch of TV. Bam, you’re welcome. You know, in case you couldn’t figure out how to be a lazy piece of crap and needed some help with that shit.
Three weeks ago though, the switch in my brain just sort of flipped. I had to do something. I need to feel better about myself and treat my body better. I think it was an episode of Dr. Oz that got me motivated. The next day, I joined Weight Watchers and I signed up for the Dr. Oz Transformation Nation challenge and have been making healthier choices ever since.
My initial weigh-in at the Weight Watchers made me sad. I was one pound away from the weight I said I’d never be ever again. Fuck. I know a shame spiral of guilt and self-loathing will not help my cause so I decided I will just be happy I’m doing the right thing for once and be on a steady streak of weight loss.
So after that first week, I weighed in again, and I’d lost 6 pounds! That is awesome. I feel pretty proud of that and have to remind myself that each and every day when I want to do something shitty. Doing shitty things feels good in the moment, but then after the moment is passed and you feel all guilty and bloated it doesn’t feel good anymore. If I feel bad about something or myself, and eat 3 donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts and a big old apple cider, do I feel good after that? No. I feel sad that I ate a bunch of meaningless bullshit that I didn’t even necessarily enjoy. If I dread going to the gym, and then go anyways and sweat through a long aerobics class, do I feel good after that? Yes. I feel physically tired, but good, and mentally I feel accomplished. That feeling lasts. It lasts even longer if I keep going to the damn gym like a good girl should.
Know what would really kick up my metabolism and weight loss efforts? Not drinking a bottle of wine on the weekends. In one evening. But like …. you know how I just said after eating shitty food I feel shitty afterwards? I do not feel shitty after drinking a bottle of wine. I feel fucking awesome during the drinking, while drunk and performing a skit on drunk driving, while trying to booty-pop to Super Bass, and without a hangover the next day I physically feel no guilt or bad effects that would prevent me from doing this in the future. I guess what I’m saying is I just need to save my extra weekly Flex Points Plus on Weight Watchers for binge wine drinking on the weekends.
Going to the gym makes me feel really good. I work out pretty hard. Well probably not compared to someone who is in peak physical shape, but it’s hard for me so shut the fuck up about it. I’m taking some classes at the gym. I tried Zumba since that seems like the fun fitness craze sweeping the nation. Let me tell you… I’m not doing that shit anymore. I did it twice, and I just can’t. People are all like “OMG how could you not like Zumba?! It’s so fun! It’s dancing, you don’t even realize you’re exercising!” Let me explain it to you. I don’t dislike it because “it’s hard” because it is… it is a really decent calorie-burning workout. I hate it BECAUSE IT IS DANCING. How was 85% of the class I participated in Latina with natural booty rhythm? I have no groove. I am a cracker ass motherfucker. I am Whitey McAlabaster. I’m not just talking “oh white people can’t dance.” Because first of all, I can’t dance. Second of all, I am just really pale looking. I’m pale and I can’t dance and I’m fat… so all of that together with a bunch of really good-dancing type Latina women of all shapes, sizes and ages in a room of mirrors… it’s a fright fest. I looked like the Pillsbury dough boy trying to dance. It’s like my limbs had no joints in them… just white, unbend-able flabby appendages flailing and kicking around. My hips don’t shake! How can I not shake my hips?! I move them from side to side like I imagine one should do but it just looks so goddamn awful and everyone else looks so sexy and fun. I hate Zumba and I’m not going back ever again until my fairy godmother gifts me with the power or dance.
Classes that I like more have no dance involved. Yesterday I took Triple Fat Burner. It burned three of my fats? I don’t know, but it involved cardio, step and kick boxing. Step is a little tricky for me because my lack of coordination in regards to dance carries over well to step aerobics. I trip over the stepper really easily and have a hard time understanding the choreography of the moves… So I’ll watch for one or two sets and finally get it right on the third. I get confused, stand on top of my stepper and look around and see that everyone else is doing the right steps but me and one other confused looking girl who is just kind of flailing her arms around… I think she and I might be gym soulmates.
Even with the foot coordination confusion I had yesterday, I kept moving, stayed for the whole class and felt really good about it. After that I did weights and then spent some time on the exercise bike. Today I am sore in places I’ve never felt soreness. But I’m going to keep at it. I’m going back for another class today.