Pride...

Completely and utterly unrelated to fitness even in the slightest, my windshield was replaced today. I just had to share because it's so much less stressful to drive with a windshield that isn't cracked. Plus it was replaced while I was at work. Safelite is the best.

Today is the day. The day where I get wicked candid and tell you my current weight. On the internet. For all to see. And I thought a cracked windshield was a source of stress. Believe it or not there's a big difference between admitting you're a fat person and telling people how fat you actually are. I remember in elementary school the fifth and sixth graders would go on a ski trip to Trollhaugen in Wisconsin and in preparation we would all get weighed during gym class not in private. It was always my least favorite day cause everyone was telling everyone else what they weighed and I was always wicked embarrassed (goodness I've used 'wicked' twice in one paragraph. Thanks, Massachusetts!).

Well today I will not be embarrassed. Not because I'm happy with the number out of context, but because in the grand scheme of what I'm attempting to accomplish, progress has been made. But you'll have to wait just a little longer until those numbers are officially released because I'm not taking events out of sequence.

I get to the gym tonight and feel slightly nervous because I know I'll have to step on a scale. The worst thing that could possibly happen is that I've put on weight since my physical where I learned that I've lost a total of 26 pounds. But I can't think about that because I have to get on the elliptical machine and get warmed up. Maybe I can work off some extra poundage in this five minutes that ends up morphing into ten because I make the best workout mixes ever.

After my elliptical time I head upstairs to grab a towel and see if that's where Justin is waiting. Indeed it is and we head down a hallway to start the process of my measurements. We have to create a profile with some personal information before the moment arrives. We head to the scale. Thankfully Justin is really good at making things seem less intense and I tend to be a little more on the dramatic side (but it really is just a defense mechanism).

Before I reveal my current weight, let me tell you where I started. At my very first physical with my new doctor (sometime this past summer, I think in June) I stepped on the scale and weighed 411 pounds. It was really scary to me to be over the 400 mark, especially at 25. At my most recent physical on January 14, my weight was 386. Today, my weight is 377. I've lost nine pounds in four weeks. Two and a quarter pounds a week average. An average of seven pounds a month since I started in September. I am insanely proud of those statistics. Other boring measurements are taken to track my progress and since I don't have the exact figures, I'll omit them.

After measurements, Justin and I head down to the weight room where he shows me some actual exercise to do with weights. I think he calls them dumbbell presses but I can't really be sure. I'm really good at pretending to pay attention when I'm actually not paying attention. That's what I learned as an actor in college. So we alternate 15 presses and one minute planks three times. And after that I'm dripping sweat. Gross. But it is indicative of exertion, so it's proof that I'm trying me best. I'll attempt to view sweat as a positive thing.

We move on to the cardio room to do an exercise that features squats. As I often say, squats are one of my least favorite things. Combine it with presses and it becomes really awful. Squat down, do a press on the way up. Fifteen of those then side planks for a minute on each side. We do that twice. Maybe three times. I was kind of delirious so I don't really remember.

Then we go over to the leg press machine. Justin tells me that these are really great and I say something along the lines of, 'But will my body be happy with me?' Some lady pipes up 'No! They're awful." Zip it lady. I'm paying to be trained, not for you to be friendly. Fifteen presses on each leg three times, and then my workout is over. We go back upstairs to schedule our next session and I renew my hatred for whomever put stairs in the gym that I MUST go up. 

Once the appointment is scheduled I go downstairs and change into my swim suit (HA! You thought I was done but I tricked you) and head to the pool. Crap there's an aqua aerobics class going on. That means the water is choppy and I may drown. I'll deal. The problem is, I know I'm swimming in pee. You don't get that many people in a pool for an hour without at least one person peeing. I don't care if they're all adults who should know better. Which makes it even worse when the unthinkable happens and I accidentally swallow some pee-water. Time to be done with my swim.

I head back to the locker room to change and I'm 98% sure I hit some poor guy in the face with my sweaty shirt. The problem is I wait well beyond the point in time where it would be acceptable to say something so I don't say anything and he probably thinks I'm some stupid jerk. So if perchance you are reading this, dude in the locker room, know that I had a hard time sleeping because I felt so guilty about maybe smacking with you my shirt. Please forgive me.