The New Phone Book Is Here!

That's how I felt today. Like Steve Martin in the jerk when the new phone book was delivered and his name was in it for the first time. Today, the new book by Bob Harper, Biggest Loser fitness guru, was released. I am so excited! I have been waiting for weeks for this! I love Bob. I think if anyone could turn my life around it would be Bob. I have told my husband that when we win the lottery I'm going to hire Bob to live with us - or at least in our guest house - to train me and mold me into a steamy, hot chick. I am not a fan of reality TV. However, I am a huge fan of Biggest Loser. Kind of obsessed in fact. I'm amazed at how well these people do and the changes they can make to their bodies and in their lives. I love watching the workouts, cooking, trainer tips, challenges and weigh-ins. The drama, not so much. I can totally do without the drama. If one more girl cries or whines about the boys being so much better and says they don't have a chance to win I'm going to scream! I'm glad Ali came back. She is totally kicking butt! I really want someone on Bob's team to win but I wouldn't be sad if Ali wins. I would like for Jay to win. He has come such a long way in a very short time. He is coming out of his brother's shadow and making a life for himself. I'm very happy for all of the contestants. It seems like everyone is losing much more weight this season than ever before. A couple of people seem to be pretty much at their goal. Look at the time! Time for BL! Gotta go see who gets voted off!


Rock Hard Abs For a Good Cause

All branches and affiliates of my gym participated in an Ab Crunch Challenge today. We trained for 10 weeks to build up strength and endurance to perform stomach crunches for one hour straight. While training, we solicited sponsorship from friends and family to benefit St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital. My particular gym had about 40 people sign up. 7 of us actually showed up. A few minutes into the Challenge, my abs stopped protesting and it was smooth sailing. With about 10 minutes left, my guts started protesting and I felt a bit nauseous. But my abs felt fine. The next day, my abs, neck, shoulders, arms, obliques and some muscles I didn't know I had were hurting. I guess holding my arms behind my head for an hour was more work than I thought. The way we counted was, each time we hit 50 we yelled it out or raised our hands and a counter would mark it on the counting sheet. Unfortunately, there were 2 times I raised my hand that the counter didn't see so I finally started yelling it out. My official count that was marked down for the contest was 1,937. But, technically, I really did 2,137. I think either way is pretty good. I was pretty surprised. When I first started doing crunches, I did about 50 and was sore and had to wait about a week to try again. So to be able to do that many in one hour was very exhilirating. The winner at my gym had over 3,500! Awesome!

I felt pretty good that I was doing the challenge and I didn't wuss out like the other 30 something women that didn't show up. Until the manager was sayin that we get t-shirts from St. Jude's but they were ugly and for some reason they sent all XL and she didn't know why they were all XL and they would be so huge and we could wear them as sleep shirts. She said she was going to order shirts for those of us who participated and she would get our sizes to make sure they fit. That was when I noticed I was the fattest person doing the challenge. Then the negative thoughts and self-sabotaging voice started to take over. Instead of concentrating on the fact that I was there on a Saturday morning doing crunches - more than some of the skinny girls did! - I was focusing on the fact that I was huge and my fat body was sprawled out on the floor and people were looking at me. They were probably wondering if they were going to have to call 911 to get my fat butt off the floor when it was over or if I was going to give up after 30 minutes. Of course, no one was probably thinking any of these things. Just me. And then, the shirts that St. Jude's sent turned out to be larges. And the gym manager said our shirts were going to be women's sizes which means XL probably won't fit me. So now I'm already bummed out about being the fattest one there, the shirt I worked so hard for doesn't fit and neither will the one that is being specially ordered for me. This is what I'm thinking. Instead of how great I did. Instead of "Hey! You just did 2,000 crunches in ONE hour!" I couldn't be happy for myself. I really gotta work on that.


Fat and Loathing in Texas

I find myself trying to explain this inner struggle with myself to people around me and I can't seem to express the severity of it. I usually describe it as self loathing. I looked up the word “loathe” in the thesaurus and what I found pretty much summed it up. And it gave me some very descriptive words that perfectly describe it:

Definition: hate

Synonyms: abhor, abominate, decline, despise, detest, dislike, down on, execrate, feel repugnance, find disgusting, hate, refuse, reject, repudiate, revolt, spurn

loathe is a verb meaning 'to dislike intensely, to feel revulsion toward, to despise'

When I tell people about my social anxiety they just don’t understand it. They look at me with utterly perplexed faces and I get the feeling they don’t believe it. I’m quite positive they don’t understand the extent of it. I tell them: I can’t look at people in the face when I’m in public. In fact, I hate going in public at all. It’s hard for me to go to Walmart or the mall. My daughter is 13 and she goes into - what I refer to as the 'skinny girl' stores -  and I hate it. I really want to enjoy shopping with her and I know she has fun, but I hate going in there. The skinny little sales girls won't help us and they just stare at me with disgusted faces wondering how I can even show myself in their store. It's as if they're trying to transport me to the 'fat girl store' - Lane Bryant - with their evil little stares. I even have a hard time walking to the restroom at work because I can’t stand for my co-workers to see me. I always feel uncomfortable when I’m on a date with my husband. I’m so consumed with the fear that everyone is thinking ‘What is that guy doing with that fat girl?’ that I can hardly concentrate on this man sitting across from me and the great time we could be having if I wasn’t so worried about my fat ass hanging over the chair, or my back fat sagging over my bra strap. 

I joined a women's gym a year ago. They have a circuit, cardio machines, weights, sauna, tanning and various classes. I am so self conscious that I have never taken one of the classes even though I am dying to do them. That is, until about 2 weeks ago. My (very fit and thin) 13 year old daughter and her 13 year old friend go to the gym with me. They are always begging me to do the classes and I tell them to go ahead and do them, they don't need me. Well, they gave me the evil eye the whole time they were doing the class and I just stood on the sidelines looking on as a spectator. The story of my life. I was trying to sum up the courage to get out there with them. I kept telling myself I was making more of a spectacle of myself just standing here than I would be if I went out there and did the Hip Hop Mix cardio class. So, 30 minutes into the class I thought, "I can do this!" and I jumped out on the springy, spongy aerobics floor. That was when the instructor stepped it up a notch. Seeing as how I had never done one of these classes, I didn't know that the halfway point was the "Ok, let's really start sweatting!" point. But, I finished the class. And I felt really good. The teacher was starting a new class the next night, Cardio Tease. I went to that one too. And I am still going. Unfortunately, I have missed the last few weeks from being sick and other unfortunate events. I would be going today but the class is cancelled due to a workshop. But, I'll be back next week. I do ok in the class as long as I don't look at myself in the mirror. When I do that, the site is so awful that it is actually physically jolting to look at. My belly rolls are so disgusting and when we sit in our chair (yes, we use chairs and 'stripper poles') I can see how far my butt actually spills over the sides. But, as long as I look at the instructor I'm ok. She is really great. She is constantly telling us how hot we are and she's just a little ball of fire. She has been great for my confidence. It's still pretty non-existent but I can see it's tiny little head peeking around the corner ready to show itself any day now. My husband can't wait for that because he wants to see what I've been learning in my class. And I haven't got the nerve to show him yet. One day, my love. One day.

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