Weigh in Wednesday makes me want to consume only liquids all day. You know, like I did when I was on WW that one time.
Turns out, I had nothing to fear. I’m down another 1.9 pounds for a total of about 10 pounds. Since January 25. How about that?
I’m not one to pat myself on the back. Because as soon as I do, I will think it’s okay to cheeseburger it up at Applebee’s. That’s how I roll. And what I would do after not eating anything all day before WW weigh ins. I would “celebrate” with a margarita and fried cheese.
One of the things that WW never tells you is that if you modify your diet, without exercise, you only have a 10% chance of keeping off the weight. (The other side of that is exercise without diet modification which has a 1% success rate.) But by combining diet and exercise, 89% kept off the weight.
I’m trying to talk myself into a good mood about all of this. Seriously.
This is the part where the workouts are getting really hard. And where eating “clean” is getting boring. If not difficult.
I walked up the stairs to see this:
Holy. Crap. Definitely the torture device du jour. That board is on a spring, I think. And tippy. I thought we would have to stand on it. Maybe do squats or something. Nope. Pushups. Core rotations. Ugh.
That whole core thing? Yeah. I might have had a core at some point. And then I had 3 kids in less than 4 years. And the space that my babies once occupied might be filled with peanut butter. Okay, maybe not anymore. I’m working on that. But I can say that the muscles have been ripped apart. My core? Is really weak. Not nearly as weak as it was a month ago.
We started tonight by jogging. 10 minutes, 0 incline. Molly did not want us to walk at all. Seriously?
Because I have a touch of Aries in me, I had to rebel a little. Call it a warm up. But I walked for the first 3 minutes, jogged for 6 minutes at a 5.4mph and then walked the last minute. And I have noticed something. I had to walk the last minute not because my lungs were on fire or because I was seeing sparkles but because the pounding was irritating to my legs and, specifically, my shins. I hope that this will get better. You know, as I have less ass to haul around.
The exercise portion of this is getting easier. For the love of all that’s holy, please don’t tell Molly. She was making me do this squat and then jump and clack your feet together thing. 20 times in a row. After I had pitched a (minor) fit about how I don’t jump. Not because I am in pain or afraid of injury. I just feel like I look ridiculous. Dumb reason for not doing something, I realize. But that’s most of the reason why jogging was such a roadblock.
I imagine that I look stupid. My skinny legs, normal-ish arms and this bulbous midsection attempting to catch a little air. Somebody take away that chick’s Girl Scout cookies. And pour me another cocktail because this is funny shit.
Or it’s all in my imagination. And nobody really cares about what anyone else is doing.
Maybe I’m the only nosy one in the whole building. Maybe nobody else saw the midget on the Cybex trainer. Or the (voluntarily) bald guy covered in towels. Or how the meat market girls tend to group together.
Surely everyone walking by notices Fat Camp. We might be the hardest working group of bitches in the whole gym.