I hate the gym. I hate it. I had running on a treadmill and putting my naked body in a shower stall where other naked bodies have been. I hate getting up early and I especially hate lifting dumbbells.
That said, the gym is
God awful great. Today marks the start of my third week and I am beyond exhausted. My arms are so tired from lifting weights this morning, that when I was getting undressed for my shower I had a difficult time taking my t-shirt off and I debated on going to work in my sweaty clothes. I also basically left my hair the way God intended it to be, simply because the blow dryer was heavy and my arms are tired.
I weighed myself this morning and I was shocked at how much I have let myself go in just a year. I clocked out at about 150. And while that might not sound like too much, I am a 23 year old female who is only 5’4. It brought my life into perspective, and honestly, it scared me a bit. I weighed 125-128 my senior year of high school, that was only 5 years ago. Part of my weight gain was due to my accident a year ago, I was unable to walk on my own for the better part of 2 months, and over a year later I continue to have bouts of pain in my pelvis. The other part, though? My love for junk food. I love pizza. I mean, I really love pizza. I also really love Cherry Coke and Oreos. And I hate most veggies, fish, Greek yogurt; basically the super healthy stuff. I wish I wasn’t a super picky eater, but I am. And truthfully, that makes any time of weight loss difficult. I know this. But I am having a really difficult time without my nightly snack of Oreos or brownies.
I have a touch of anxiety that makes working out in a public place really tough for me, just about impossible. I have refused to do certain moves because they required me going into a room with people I don’t know. People who I know for a fact could care less about what I am doing, but in my chest I feel like I am constantly judge. Judged for not being able to lift as much, or run as fast or for wanting to rest too often. And I know I know I know that
most people at the gym really don’t care, they aren’t there to watch you and criticize. They are there to work out themselves. But something in the back of my mind makes me freeze up in a panic if someone gets to close to my treadmill or where I need to be next.
If you haven’t picked up on it yet, I am a bit of a klutz as well. I also basically have some of the worst luck ever. One of the first times I ever lifted weights, I smacked myself in the hip with it and within minutes I had a lovely purple bruise the size of my fist tucked away under my shorts. I have tripped on the treadmill, thankfully though I have an obsession with holding onto the bar as to not fly off the back and hit an unsuspecting passerby. (Add that into my already beautiful anxiety, and you pretty much have a party!) I knocked over the fan in the bathroom and when I tried to right it back up, I ended up blowing my dress up (Very Marilyn like) and most recently discovered a hole in the only pair of jeans I brought for the day. I work right next to the gym, which I am usually quite thankful for. Except for last Friday. You see, I was getting dressed after my shower in my little shower cubical and I was kinda sweaty (yes, I sweat easy, even after I get out of the shower) so pulling my jeans up was a chore. A sweaty, aggravating chore. I finally got my jeans up, tank top on and on to drying my hair. As I stood in front of the mirrors, my eyesight traveled downwards and I noticed a huge hole in my jeans in the general area of my Lady Zone. And those were the only jeans I packed, oh and I also had super *cute* bright pink undies on. So naturally, I panicked and texted my sister and requested her assistance. She walked into the bathroom and immediately started to laugh hysterically. Long story short, I ended up locking myself out of the gym because of a trip to the car to get duct tape, I had a huge hole in my jeans and it wasn’t even 7:30 yet.
All in all, I’m a little overweight and a little more exhausted but I am even more determined to finally be happy with myself. I’ll keep ya posted! 🙂