Crumbs...

So today I go on a moving job. My first ever moving job. This may sound odd because I work at a moving company, but I normally do office work, scheduling and in home estimates. Not today. Today, I go to a woman's house and help lift patio furniture and move it from her decks into her garage. Now, I had no idea patio furniture could be heavy and it mostly wasn't, but she has two umbrella stands that are really tough to move. It makes sense when I consider that these stands are the only things preventing the umbrellas from blowing into the ocean. Side note: this woman has a gorgeous view of the ocean. Even on a day that is as crappy as this one. Aside from that, everything goes fine. 

By the end of the move, I am soaking wet. The problem is, it rains for most of the day and I can't tell if I'm just covered in rain or covered in sweat. The wetness under my breasts lets me know that it is, in fact, mostly from sweating. But I get a tip from the lady so that makes it all worth it. That, and I consider this exercise because of how much I perspired. Maybe I should volunteer for moving jobs more often.

My evening workout is pushed up because I have friends coming over for a scary movie marathon, so I do yoga as soon as I get home from work. This is one of my favorite ways to workout not only because I can do it in the comfort and privacy of my own living room, but because it's the workout where I can see the most apparent change. I've become much more flexible and my endurance is getting better every day.

But it's also the workout where I sweat the most and where I'm the most aware of how sweaty I am. I constantly have to lay on my back and wet back against dry carpet is not a good feeling. Plus I always end the workout with crumbs on my back because, despite having a perfectly wonderful kitchen table, my roommates and I all seem to prefer eating on the couch in front of the TV. 

Be sure to check out the "Photo Progress" section of the blog and I'd appreciate any follows and shares.

Determination...

So I get home from work and after watching the series premiere of Modern Family and throwing my workout clothes into the washing machine, I decide to do yoga. Now, in the last few weeks of doing yoga, I've never been able to complete the workout without having to rest at some point during most of the exercises. Today, however, I complete the whole video without giving up on a motion once. Bam. I gotta say, I feel pretty awesome when I'm finished. But it instantly goes away because I realize I have left a lovely sweat spot on the carpet and I instantly become discouraged knowing that I'll have to clean that up, later.

But I won't be doing that right now because I am a sweaty mess and I need to rest. I toss my washed clothes into the dryer and realize, with much dismay, that I have sent my hot pink earbuds through the wash. But I test them out and they appear to still be working. Now I have to waste time while my clothes dry. I decide to browse the interweb for for a while and read up on some great butt exercises that I can do at home without the use of machines. I then go to get my workout clothes out of the dryer. Unfortunately my normal workout shirt has stuck itself to the wall of the washing machine and has not made it into the dryer. So basically, I sat around for nothing.

I grab a different shirt, throw on my shorts and head to the gym, because a wet shirt isn't going to stop me, today. I feel too awesome. I get on the bike when I get to the gym because I'm feeling adventurous. 25 minutes and a full bike dance routine to Want U Back by Cher Lloyd later, I head to the weight room for a day of legs. I use the calf machine, because I now know how. I'd love to give someone a tutorial if they'd like to come to the gym with me, sometime.

Then, I go to the glute machine, which is especially difficult, today. Maybe because I literally have no clue what my starting weight should be when I use a machine. They should have guidelines printed on the machine. Like, is it awesome that I can do 115 pounds on the triceps machine or is that below average. And what should I start with when I do bench presses to ensure I don't die when I try to lift it? When I'm done on the glute machine, some old guy comes up and asks what the machine is for. It's totes awkward to talk to an old guy about a machine that works your butt. 

I do a few more exercises and when I get up to grab a cloth to wipe down the machine, old guy swoops in and starts to use it. Enjoy that, old guy. You're sitting in my butt sweat.

In case you were worried that I was too attractive while at the gym...

May I also take this opportunity to ask that you follow my blog? Simply sign in with your free Google account and click 'Join This Site' on the left. You'll be informed when a new post is made and I'll look really cool. Thanks in advance.

Changes...

Some of you may have noticed some changes to my blog in recent days. Okay, so the past 24 hours. But still, it counts. I'm expanding it to include the tabs above and will be completing the sections as time permits. Check back occasionally, tell your friends, and follow my blog.

Suicide...

After work I go out to dinner with two very dear friends. While we are stuffing our faces with bread rolls and pasta, I attempt to convince them to join my gym, or at least check it out. After surprisingly little effort, I convince them that it's worth it to accompany me tonight and see how they like it.

Upon our arrival, Skinny Matt is standing behind the counter. "I brought friends tonight!" Maybe I sound a little too cheerful when I practically shout my statement at Matt, but I make no apologies for my behavior, so he can deal with it. A very nice woman helps both Megan and Charlotte fill out their guest information. I head down to change while they get things sorted out. When I emerge from the dressing room, Skinny Matt has already started giving the spiel (it's the right spelling, trust me, I looked it up) about joining the gym to Megan. I can almost taste the reduced membership fee.

We go down to the cardio room to start, and that is where I make the biggest mistake of my life: Charlotte and I get on the elliptical machine. I know within a minute and a half that this is bad. My thighs are burning. To top it all off, I'm on an elliptical machine that is right next to one of the exercise bikes that has a 'contest' component. It is this very bike where my good friend CJ decides he's going to be working out. It's bad enough that that I'm on a machine that will surely put me on the front page of the newspaper with a 'Fat Guy Dies on Elliptical Machine' headline, but to have to think about spending twenty minutes next to someone who may talk my ear off the whole time adds almost too much stress.

Surprisingly, CJ doesn't say a thing to me during my fifteen minutes of death on the elliptical. Yeah, I cut it down from twenty. Get over it. I am dripping sweat the entire time and my thighs burn like I just climbed all 1,860 steps of the Empire State Building. I wipe off the machine and wait for Megan to finish her biking when CJ decides to start up a conversation about how he's seen me here a lot. I comment on how it's really just an obligation and he says 'But you passed the hardest step: showing up'. That's going on my quote board.

I also look like this during my workouts, only with significantly more sweat

Megan and I head to the weight room, while Charlotte decides to be lame and use the 'Women's Only' equipment room. I focus on arms, today, but not before I try the calf machine one final time. Miracle of miracles, it works. I literally do nothing differently, but I guess the universe thinks I deserve a win.

At this point, I want to go home. I'm tired and sweaty, but these lovely ladies I have brought with me decide that they want to try the pool before we go. So I swim ON TOP of everything else I've done this evening. By the end, I can't feel my body and can only assume I have left my physical body and will soon be ascending into heaven. Not the case.

I decide to try the steam room, again. I walk in and realize that there are two other guys in the room, but I can't see them, because of all the steam. I head towards the edge of the bench and pray that I am not about to sit on one of them. Thankfully, I make contact with the tiled bench. I can still only stay about 4 minutes of torture before I have to leave and sit in the sauna for 10 minutes.

On the way out of the gym Megan decides she's going to sign up for a membership. I not only get my five bucks off, but I also get a free t-shirt, because Matt is awesome.

Sweat...

Today when I go to the gym, I once again begin in the weight room. Because it's legs, I decide I'm going to conquer the calf machine. Unfortunately, I fail miserably. No matter what I do, the thing stays locked in place. I even watched someone use it yesterday and it looked really easy, but I have no success as I pull locks and push levers. Anyone want to help me out with this?! The machine looks like this:

I will defeat you one day, Satan Machine

I also forgot to wipe down a machine today. So I'm pretty sure I'm going to get a phone call and be told that I am no longer welcome at the establishment.

After working my gluteus maximus, I go back to the locker room. On my way, I pass CJ. 'Don't even think about speaking to me,' I think to myself. He must be a mind reader because he doesn't even look at me. Then, I change into my bathing suit for another night in the pool. Thankfully, I am able to enter the water without falling on my soon-to-be-toned buns of steel. I also remember to bring goggles so that I can swim without looking like a total idiot. I do several laps freestyle, with just my legs, and using just my arms. I feel a lot better today than I did yesterday.

But this is why I hate swimming. It defies all logic that I should be sweating doing something in which I am submerged in water. I simply can not fathom how this can happen. And don't be the loser who tries to explain why I still sweat even in water. I will unfriend you on facebook and not feel badly about it.

I swim for half an hour then head back to the locker room to shower and change. But curiosity gets the better of me and I decide to explore the shower area. Not only are there showers in there, but there is a hot tub, a sauna, and a steam room. This is the best gym ever. 

I decide to start with the familiar territory of the sauna. These used to terrify me as a kid because it was always difficult for me to breathe in them. Thankfully, with age comes experience and I can say, with confidence, I have triumphed over my fear of saunas. I sit in the sauna for about 10 minutes, then exit, for fear that I may fall asleep and be slow-cooked to perfection.

I decide to be adventurous and try the steam room and suddenly realize that I have replaced my fear of saunas with the fear of steam rooms. 

I expected something calm and relaxing, like this. Instead, I almost died.

All of my senses are assaulted at once and I think I may be having a stroke. It smells like medicine, I feel hot and sticky, there is a steady hissing noise (also reawakening my fear of snakes), and my vision goes blurry from an inability to see anything through all the steam. Like a mature adult, I force myself to sit in the steam room for a full 4 minutes before my fear takes control and I have to leave.

Moral of the story, steam rooms are kind of scary and be very careful when searching for images of 'steam room' online.

Swim...

So I get to the gym today and decide to start in the weight room. There is a woman in the weight room, today. The first woman I've ever seen in the weight room, minus that gentleman's eye candy from last week. This one is actually on machines. In fact, on the calf raise machine, which I could not, for the life of me, figure out. Add that to the list of things that have made me feel stupid since I joined the gym.

I'm intimidated away from working on legs, and decide to do more curls with my dinky 15 pound weights. The sad thing is I feel like I'm working really hard to do 3 sets of 10 reps with these things and this guy standing three feet away is doing curls with 40 pound weights and I swear he's been going steady for about 2 minutes. I'm tempted to throw a five pound weight at him, but I resist because I don't think I'd be able to get it that far after my 30 total reps. 

I also do some tricep workouts and work my back. Then, I decide to do some calves, but I'm not using a machine to do it. I just stand and raise up on to my tiptoes and back down again. Like a very rudimentary ballet. Except I guarantee you I do not look graceful as I do this. I almost fall on my face a minimum of 8 times.

Once I'm done with that, I head back to the locker room because tonight is the night I venture into the pool. The gym keeps touting their saltwater pool and I kind of feel obligated to try it out. Now, as a fat person who is male, I avoid taking my shirt off at all costs. I wore t-shirts in the pool as a kid and claimed it was because I didn't want to get sunburned. False. I didn't want to be arrested for indecent exposure.

Thankfully, every time I go to the gym at night, the pool is empty. Doubly good, because I slip and fall as I go down the steps into the pool and nearly drown. Talk about embarrassing. I decide to start by swimming simple freestyle laps. After the first two, my speed decreases tremendously. Holy crap. I had no idea I was this out of shape. I imagine I must look pretty comical; as uncoordinated as ever. I'm glad there's no life guard on duty because it would be embarrassing a) to drown in a pool that is 4 1/2 feet deep, at most, and b) to explain that I am in fact not drowning, I'm just swimming. 

I then do some laps with the pool noodles, using just my legs. It's the most intense leg workout I've experienced and I am as exhausted as ever when I finish. Then I swim on my back using just my arms for a couple laps, to really work them. When I'm done, I'm exhausted. I take a quick shower and head home, happy to not have to exert anymore energy.

Juiced...

I'm only feeling pressured to post during the week, because I have a life. Take any weekend posts as a wonderful gift from me to you.

I wake up around 12:30pm because I was working until 4:00am last night. And I had to fight to not wake up at 8:30am. Why? Because my body is stupid and false into a routine. I do not feel like exercising, so I grab my juice and do very moderate things that could be considered physical activity. Like laundry, for example. Don't mock me, laundry can be an exercise, especially if you've got as much as I do. My laundry basket is really heavy. Plus I dance while I do it.

I also continue with my juicing. I've been juicing 2 meals a day for 2 weeks. Because I know all of you are curious, no, I do not get particularly hungry. But I do frequently get nostalgic when I think about what it was like to chew food. If you're interested in juicing, look it up on the internet because I am not doing your research for you. Be an adult. But here is the fancy juicer that I own, should you be interested.

It works really well, but cleanup can take a while.

I do an abbreviated yoga session and make sure that I do not idly sit in front of the TV. I do a wonderful set of those exercises that remind me of a Jane Fonda workout video, or the exercises we used to do in elementary school gym class. 

Similar to this, but without all that 80s glam

Beautiful buns and thighs, here I come.

Peeing...

Please be aware that I have no shame and I am perfectly comfortable talking about bodily functions. This will occasionally filter into the blog.

So after I watch an episode of The X-Factor, I drive to the gym and as I'm walking up the stairs to the front door, I'm getting nervous. 'I'm going to scan my card and lights will flash because they're going to see that I haven't been to the gym all week.' Card scanned, nothing happens. Now I'm offended. 'Apparently they don't care that I haven't been all week. Thanks for all the great support!'.

I walk down the stairs into the locker room and get changed into my gym clothes. As I leave, I briefly think I may need to pee before I start. Someone is already using the urinal, so I decide to leave, but not before I notice something strange. Being that most people wear pants or shorts with some sort of elastic waistband, I have found that the easiest way is just to pull down the front of my shorts and do my business. Apparently this guy has found a better way because he goes up through the left leg of his shorts. I have never seen this done before and I'll be honest: it was weird.

I go to the stationary bike and start my workout The good old stationary bike that never lets me down. There is nothing confusing about sitting and pedaling. I don't even have to press any buttons on the bike. It just assumes I know what I'm doing. I just pedal and lip-sync to all my gym jams. What a great name for a playlist, btdubs.

11 minutes in to the ride, I realize I have to pee. The question is, do I hold it for the next 14 minutes, or do I finish the ride and then go? I don't like either option, so I just pee my pants. Just kidding. I wait until I finish and then speed walk to the bathroom. And no, I don't try going up through the leg.

After my bathroom break I head to the weight room, which is once again full of men in much better shape than me. I do some free weights and minimal machines because of an article someone sent me over Facebook that warned of the perils of some machines. Back, shoulders, biceps and triceps, all in time to get home and shower before the new season of Parks and Recreation starts.

Baby Steps...

So I don’t go to the gym today, either. Instead, I go into Boston with my roommate to play trivia with another friend in Boston and we win 3^rd place. Bam.  I am learning to try to squeeze any kind of physical activity in wherever I can, something that is supported in my place of business. In fact, a month ago we made a list of exercises to do in certain situations in order to ensure we don’t just sit all day.

When the friendly mailman Joe arrives, I do one lunge on both legs for each piece of mail. 5 pieces of mail: 10 lunge sets. At 11:00 and 3:00, I do 6 laps in the warehouse. When 2 customers come in, I ask them to leave because I have to do a lap with a 25lb roll of paper over my head for each one of them. I do 1 squat per thousand pounds quoted or booked (for those of you unfamiliar with moving, an average move is about 5,000-7,000 pounds and I quote 4 moves throughout the day). I also do 30 seconds of planking every time my boss calls. And she calls at least 4 times a day.

The little things will ad up. Lunges are easier and I can do more without needing to stop. I consider that a victory. Yes, I wine and complain when I have to do something, but I still do it because I have motivation! Why did it take me so long to find this?

The posts will be more interesting when I actually go to the gym. So if you feel let down by this post and the last post, keep in mind I’m doing this for me and not for you, Conceited.

Neglect...

So I don't go to the gym today. And I don't do yoga. I know, I know, I'm an awful human being. But in my defense, a one day break doesn't sway my determination. I have to assume this day will come, but I decide not let it become a habit. That's when I officially lose. So do I make some poor decisions today? Yes. But why on earth would I let that take away from all the good decisions I've made in the past week? The day simply gets away from me. I meet with my landlord to discuss the possibility of fostering dogs, and Cabin in the Woods is on Blu-ray, today, so I need to go buy my copy. 

Plus, I end up going to 5 Guys with my roommates which is time not wasted, seeing as its National Cheeseburger Day. And if you've never been to 5 Guys, go. They will always have an endorsement from me because their burgers are flippin' (pun intended) delicious.

Also, thanks for telling me about all my grammatical errors in my posts. Please, feel free to correct me. I'm not an idiot, but even people as amazing as me can make mistakes. 

Sickness...

Despite feeling ill, I decide I still need to workout and rather than infect everyone at the gym, I stay home. Another day of yoga in the living room. The only problem with this decision is that I have short ceilings in my apartment and a lot of the stretches involve lengthening my spine with my arms over my head. Impossible to do when I only have 4 inches of clearance between the top of my head and the ceiling. So I adjust, and hope that I'm not doing serious damage to my body, as a result.

It's a rough workout. My arms are incredibly sore from the lifting that I've done recently, and I can think of nothing more appealing than lying on the couch and watching the sad sacks in the video do the workout while I stuff my face full of Funyuns. But that would be foolish.

Sweat is pouring off of me and I start to realize that regardless of my fitness level, I will ALWAYS sweat if I'm doing it right. This is an incredibly depressing thought. I hate the feeling of sweating. I understand that it has to happen, on a biological level, but I really think I'd prefer whatever the consequence of not sweating would be. It gets into my eyes and runs up my nose when I'm in downward dog and is generally annoying.

Another frustrating thing about a fat person doing yoga is when I can't do a particular pose. Now, I don't mean can't because I'm not flexible. I have always been flexible. I'm talking when my body gets in it's own way. I'm supposed to lay on my back and pull my knees to my chest. When I've got a big stomach, this isn't possible. 25 minutes later, I'm exhausted but invigorated. If I could just continue to remember how great I feel after a workout, maybe I could convince myself that it's a good idea more often.

iPod...

Today I go to the gym a little later than I intend because there is another important lesson I have learned: It is incredibly important to have a comfortable pair of shoes when I'm at the gym. I've been squeezing into a pair of Adidas running shoes that I've had since my junior year of high school and they've given me wonderful insight into the practice of binding feet. I decide it's time to get some new shoes. So I drive down to Nordstrom Rack, which seems to be the only place that sells shoes the size of most clown cars, and pick out literally one of the most comfortable pair of shoes I have ever worn. Those of you who are interested, they are the Asics Nimbus 13.

Then, I go over to Target and re-purchase my hot pink head phones, because I need them.

Upon entering the gym, I take my gym bag down to the locker room. That's right, ladies and gentleman, I finally got a gym bag. True, my gym bag is a reusable Target bag that I purchased about 4 years ago, but it's my pride and joy so keep it to yourself. The gym is a little more crowded, today, so I decide to head to one of the available treadmills. Now, as a fat person, I hate being right next to someone while I'm on any piece of equipment and today I have a person on either side of me. 

Because they are so close, I can clearly see the speed with which they're running and how long they have been on the treadmill. I'm planning on walking because I'm convinced I will not survive an attempt to jog on a treadmill, and I'm only planning on doing it for 25 minutes. The woman to my left has been on for 30 minutes, and she shows no signs of stopping. And yes, women can do anything men can do, but it's incredibly de-masculinating to be beaten by a woman in feats of physical strength and endurance unless she's a body builder.  

I make it through the treadmill and then do legs. As usual, I look incredibly non-graceful as I straddle the hip whatever thing. This time, I have to raise my leg to get it over one of the arms and I end up looking like a figure skater who is failing and almost fall out of the seat. Thank goodness there is a personal trainer working with a client not 4 feet from me and they both see the whole thing. 

Then, I decide to work on whatever the backside of my thigh is called. This exercise is incredibly embarrassing because it involves laying down on my stomach. So while I sweat and struggle, it looks like I'm taking a nap. And who knows, my butt could be hanging out while I am blissfully unaware. But not really blissfully. More like painfully. Thank goodness that's the last thing I have to do before I leave, but not before responding to a woman who says goodbye to someone other than me. 

Mornings...

Let it be known that I HATE working out in the morning. I have plans to go into Boston this evening, so I decide that means I need to wake up early in order to get in my workout for the day. Yes, I'm amazing and have incredible dedication, but please, settle down.

It's awful from the moment the day starts. My alarm goes off and I instinctively hit snooze before I realize that this defeats the entire purpose of setting an alarm in the first place. So I actually get out of bed. The stupid thing with exercising in the morning is you still have to get ready. And it's pointless to shower before hand so I still have that awful sleep feeling all over myself. What the heck is that from, anyway?

I also have to put my contacts in, because otherwise I will not be able to see the TV and therefore will not be doing the yoga poses properly. And I hate putting my contacts in before I shower. Don't judge me or question my opinion. Deal with it. It's the truth.

So I start the DVD and 40 minutes later, I am now sweating profusely so it's sleep mixed with exertion sweat which makes a death cocktail of body odor. It's a good thing I didn't eat breakfast before I did this. It's also good that I am not in the presence of any other people because if I were, I would probably end up being arrested for homicide. 

I have never been more happy to shower, in my entire life. Okay, that's probably an over-exaggeration, but it's definitely in my top ten. And this morning's work out marks 5 days in a row, of working out! Never in my life have I done that. So suck on that, naysayers and my self doubt! Plus, I have a follow-up to a physical later in the day, and the doctor says he's very pleased with my progress. But I still hate morning workouts.

Lessons...

I really need a gym bag, because I keep a) forgetting to bring things to the gym and b) keep losing things when I leave the gym. The other day at Target I buy a pair of really awesome hot pink ear-bud head phone because why shouldn't you be a little flashy at the gym? I lose them two days later. Or someone steals them. But I'm pretty sure I just lose them.

In an embarrassing turn of events, I neglect to wash my gym clothes and have to come up with an alternative work-out outfit. I find a pair of shorts that I really only use to sleep in and an old t-shirt to wear, but I basically end up looking like a hot dog because the shorts are red and the shirt is yellow. And now a hot dog sounds delicious and all I can think about is eating one. No hot dogs. Just gym.

I get to the gym after watching The X-Factor and put my stuff in the locker room when I realize that I have once again forgotten my towel. I don't think it's going to be a big deal because my plan is to stick to the weight room today.

Upon entering the weight room, I notice that it is much more crowded than usual. Instead of one lone person, there are now 5-6 beefy guys that look like they've been going to the gym since they were able to walk. And one of them has brought some ditsy looking woman who doesn't touch a single piece of equipment. Apparently you need arm candy even at the gym.

I try to ignore everyone as I work my arms and shoulders until I'm good and sore, but another variable comes into play that I didn't expect. Before I left for the gym, I had a little ice cream to celebrate my successes of the week. And by a little, I mean more than I should have had, and I am now feeling it. For those of you who might be curious, I can now say with complete confidence that you do not want to be lifting weight while you feel queasy.

Intimidation...

There are two things in the world that intimidate me: movie stars and treadmills. And I only encounter one on a regular basis. I go to the gym yesterday and decide like an idiot that I'm going to use a treadmill. As I walk over someone calls out my name. I turn and it's my apparently new best friend CJ. I get your tactic, CJ. Greet the new guy, make him feel welcome so he gets off his lazy butt and keeps coming back. Apparently, CJ cares more about my health than I do. Keep it to yourself, CJ.

Picking a treadmill doesn't sound hard, but when there's a row of about 15 of them it suddenly seems like a huge decision. Do I pick one close to other people and potentially seem creepy? Do I pick one as far away from others and seem snobbish? I have no idea. So I pick one in the middle and try not to feel badly about my decision.

As I start up the treadmill, I realize I do not know treadmill etiquette. I have no idea if I should start it and slowly increase my speed, or raise the speed before I step on, and I am for sure not touching that incline button. I'm terrified I'm going to fall flat on my face and all I'm doing is walking. Something I do EVERY DAY. Leave it to a piece of gym equipment to make you feel inadequate while doing something as trivial as walking. I find my groove after about five minutes, but not without the constant fear of what will happen if I look away from my feet, or the foreboding end of the treadmill that could be millimeters from my feet; I really have no idea.

About 8 minutes in, I'm overcome with an urge to dance as 'Club Can't Handle Me', the genius Flo Rida and David Guetta collaboration from last year, plays on my ipod. Seriously, who doesn't want to break it down when this song comes on? Evidently, not only can the Club not handle me, but neither can the treadmill. Trying to bounce to a beat with your upper body while your feet are walking at a completely different tempo is insanely difficult and I lose my balance and have to brace myself on the supports. Mental note, don't dance on the treadmill.

After 25 minutes and about a gallon of sweat, my time on the treadmill has come to an end. Post-treadmill, I feel like I'm gliding across the floor, which feels kind of cool. Then, on to the weight room for leg day. Now, I've never been in labor before, but I'm fairly certain that working my inner thighs on the machine that forces your legs apart in the most provocative of ways comes pretty close to what it feels like to lie in a hospital bed awaiting the emergence of an infant from your nether region. Praise be to Jehovah this gym is practically a ghost town.

Several more machines and two sore legs later, I begin the arduous climb up the set of stairs that you have to use in order to exit the gym. Clever design, gym architect, but I would literally push you down these stairs if you were here right now. Not only do I have to conquer those stairs, but I have to ascend the two flights of stairs to get to my apartment. What did I learn today? Stairs suck.

Foolish...

I’m all pumped to go to the gym today when I realize I have no idea where my gym shorts are. Sabotage! Someone in the world is deliberately trying to thwart my efforts to live a healthier life! That or, like an idiot, I lost them somewhere in the five minutes between my gym and my house. Side note: saying ‘my gym’ is really weird for a fat person.

So I have to drive down to Target and buy some gym shorts which is super inconvenient because I don’t want to spend more money right now. So I drop 40 bucks on two pairs of shorts and a t-shirt. All this t-shirt does for me is turn my midsection into an inner tube and super accentuate my breast and seeing as I’m not a flotation device for a 45-year-old divorcée, neither of these things are particularly helpful. I figure I’ll hold onto it and begin to wear it when it fits me better.

I get home and decide to do some yoga before I go to the gym. I love working out at home. I let it all hang out in the privacy of my home. I make no effort to pretend that I’m not winded and I certainly don’t attempt to be discreet when I have to break wind. I sweat everywhere and I love it. The problem is, it’s much more appealing to watch TV and snack when I’m at home, so that can’t be my only option.

After yoga and a rather amusing conversation with my mother (who just had surgery) I drag myself to the gym. This time I remember to bring a towel because I was SO embarrassed when I was dripping with sweat the night before and had nothing to wipe myself off with. They really should have an orientation class at the gym. This is all the stuff I would never think about.

It’s another night of stationary bike to start. Thank goodness no one approaches me, tonight, because I may have lost it and punched whoever approached me in the face. The 25 minute flies by, mostly thanks to Sean Paul. ‘She Doesn’t Mine’ motivated me like no other song can, so thank you, Sean Paul, for motivating my lazy butt.

I get off the bike and head to the weight room. The ever intimidating weight room. The room that makes me feel foolish. I never know what I’m doing in the weight room and  tonight is no different. Only tonight is worse because there are actually people in the weight room. And I promise they are all judging me. So I do my best to look impressive as I do curls (I think?!) and shoulder shrugs and I’m sure I fail miserably. 

Joined...

To celebrate a momentous occasion, I decided to get a gym membership. That momentous occasion was finally getting my own health insurance. And because I get a discount on my gym membership through my insurance provider, I thought, 'why the heck not?' Now, because I am not being paid to plug this gym, I will be omitting it's name. Suffice it to say, it's an "Athletic Club" of sorts in "Beverly". Join and tell them I referred you and I get 5 bucks off my monthly fee. Thanks in advance.

So, I joined the gym. Now, as a fat person, joining a gym is extremely intimidating. It's not like joining Curves for Women. I walk in and it must be workout rush hour because EVERY SINGLE CARDIO MACHINE IS TAKEN by super fit and super attractive people. I almost quit before I even sign up.

The first thing the membership guy asks me when I sit down is "So what are you looking to do?" What do you think a fat person walking into a gym wants to do? 'I've come to walk around and eat donuts in front of everyone.' I could have said that and maybe scored an additional discount for being HILARIOUS. Instead, I  talk about my interest in starting to work out regularly and how I want to find out about membership costs. We discuss and he offers me a tour of the 'facility', to use his lingo.

So I get a tour and all the while I'm being super self-conscious about my body compared to the bodies of all the people who are there. 'I do not have abs like that gentleman,' 'My man-boobs are larger than that woman's real boobs.' But, I'm motivated enough to decide to sign up.

Cut to two and a half hours later when I come back to the gym to actually work out. There's Matt, still sitting in his office. He flashes a smile and gives me two thumbs up. "Back already!" he hollers. Shut up, Skinny Matt. You don't know me.

Downstairs to the Locker Room and on to the cardio room. I guess I'll stationary bike it, tonight. Headphones in, I start pedaling, and some Personal Trainer dude named CJ comes up to me and tries to persuade me to swap to a different bike so our gym can beat another gym in some competition. Step off, CJ. I'm a fat person in a gym. I do not want to be approached.

So I bike 6 miles and lift some weights and leave. All in all, not too crazy of a day.

Purpose...

I was talking with my roommates after getting back from the gym, yesterday, and I decided to write a blog. As any person knows, a blog has to have a purpose in order to succeed. A blog has to answer the question "Who the heck are you, what the heck are you doing, and why the heck should I care?" So here is my answer to that question:

My name is Sam, I am losing weight, and I'm a fat person doing it at a gym.

Plain and simple. Who doesn't want to be inspired by a weight loss success story while laughing at the craziness I experience as a fat person at the gym? So tell your friends. Also, if people want to pay to advertise, I would be very appreciative.

So please enjoy, and thanks for reading.