Expectations...

Memorial Day happened. And I made some awful decisions that led to a less than successful Tuesday night workout. Basically I spent most of the day on Monday eating. And I was eating things that I should not have been eating. I ate Dominos. Like a lot of Dominos. Because despite paying monthly for a gym membership, I still don't care enough to eat healthily. Not to mention I didn't even work out on Monday. I sabotaged myself. I caved in to the promise of greasy delicious pizza and let that trump my desire to be what I've never been: skinny.

Despite walking/jogging later in the evening with Liz (Best Friend Rachel's roommate) all I could think about was how I had failed and succumbed to weakness. I don't know if it's as hard for everyone else to resist as it is for me, but it seems incredibly difficult. And ridiculous. For example, if I get it in my head that I want Dominos, I find myself being incredibly sad until I actually order it. Once I place my order and know it's coming, I'm ecstatic. That is until I consume the entire pizza and a sandwich. Then I feel disgusting and awful because I'm a horrible person.

I'm a slave to food. I never learned to eat in a healthy way and I find the self discipline to learn now impossible. Did I make awful decisions on Tuesday? You bet. I had twinkies as a snack. I knew I shouldn't have, but I wanted them and why should I deny myself a temporary joy that will only lead to self loathing?

Justin adjusted the time of our training session to later than usual so I do some yoga when I get home, and then head to the gym to do my cardio workout before the training session. I downloaded a 'Couch to 5K' app because for some reason I have been enjoying jogging. It's hard and I sweat a lot. I also make a huge mistake and pick a treadmill in front of a mirror.

I do not recommend this. It's upsetting to see what my body does when I'm trying to better myself through exercise. Every time I run for a minute all I see is my bouncing mass and I get mad, frustrated, depressed, embarrassed. I did this to myself. I did it for my entire life up until this point, and even now, I'm not doing all I can. How can I simultaneously want something so much and not care enough to do it? It doesn't seem fair.

Unfortunately for Justin, my mood follows me into the personal training session. We're in the functional training room for the session and either because I'm very transparent or Justin is very good at reading people he asks me what's wrong? 'Nothing. I just want to do this.' Only a partial lie. I really do want to do this. As proved by my Saturday workout, anger can be a great motivator for me. So to start I do a minute of wall sits, thirty seconds of jumping jacks, and a minute hover. I cycle through that three or four times. I can't really remember.

Justin is his usual cheerful encouraging self, even singing about how many seconds I have left along with Flo Rida. And it does help, especially during the hovers. We move on to some presses from the floor and some step back lunges. While I'm doing the lunges Justin says 'Come on, stay with me.' For some reason this ticks me off. And apparently I make a face because Justin asks what it's for. 'I don't want to leave, just so you know.' He asks what I mean. 'I'm doing it, how the hell am I not with you?' Conversation stops at that point. I finish up the rest of the session with side hovers added to the lunges and presses.

Ultimately the thing that frustrates me is that my best isn't good enough. I thought I was doing well and for some reason, a comment that is often said during the session rubs me the wrong way. I wasn't even close to giving up but apparently looked like it. I'm pushing myself and decided that Justin's comment meant that he didn't think I was doing a good enough job. That's not what he said. He was attempting to keep me focused on the exercise and to ignore any sort of muscle exhaustion. Perfectly reasonable.

What is really going through my head is that my best isn't good enough for me. I hate that I didn't do this a long time ago. I should be better at this stuff and I'm not. My best is constantly not good enough for me and maybe that's because I secretly know it's not my best. If I had been trying my best since I started I would be significantly farther than being down only thirty five pounds. I should be down sixty or one hundred pounds. I should have to self control to say no to Dominos. I should have to drive to get out of bed each morning and exercise to change what I hate about myself. I should want to be pushing myself daily. Instead I use what I do accomplish as an excuse to make bad decisions.

My hope is that forcing myself to do that which I detest at times, will lead to me embracing the sweat. It will lead to me looking at a body that I hate and thinking about where I'm going instead of how I got to where I am. It will motivate me to not go backwards and fall into old habits. It will lead to a better life that I enjoy.

Shame...

Shame is a funny thing. Often times the things people feel shameful about are the things that make them relatable and human. Many of you may think of me as some sort of workout-god given my outrageous fitness prowess and so the following confession may shock you. I fell off the horse. The horse in this metaphor represents exercise; I didn't actually fall off a horse. That would really hurt.

After the joy of my physical I did not go to the gym all week. That is my shameful confession. It wasn't that I thought I didn't need to go, I know I should have, but I was too easily swayed by my laziness and the promise of social gatherings. I've said it before and I'll say it again: exercise needs to be a priority. This means I need to make difficult decisions like not going out to eat a pasta and bread filled dinner and instead force myself to use that stupid elliptical and blast my arms and legs with weight machines.

The tragedy of all tragedies (not to belittle actual tragedies) is that I had planned on going to the gym every night I wasn't working, which would have been four nights. I missed out on four nights of the gym because I convinced myself that it was okay if I skipped because I had this huge accomplishment under my shrinking belt.

I think part of my problem is that my mind is convinced I've already succeeded and that things can therefore go back to how they were. I somehow have to convince my brain that while I have had success, I am not yet finished. I have a long ways to go. 26 pounds, while great, does not bring me into a healthy weight bracket. Stupid brain, stop making me feel things I don't need to feel!

So this is my oath, in front of all of the internet: I will go to Spin class and swim on Friday night and spin class and Pilates on Saturday morning. I will then swim and do weights on Sunday. This is my workout plan and I will stick with it. Even if I am too warm in my house and in my bed and a really great episode of Downton Abbey is waiting on my DVR. It will still be there when I get back.

Tell me your weekend workout plans and I will be with you in misery, though you may be far away. I maybe you'll enjoy yourself and I'll be the only one in misery. Either way we'll be exercising and that will be amazing. 

Patience...

So I freak out most of the day because I have my very first personal training session at the Beverly Athletic Club. Oops. I mean my anonymous gym. I am hella nervous (And no, I'm not ashamed that I used 'hella' in this post because I do what I want). The hours seem to drag as 7:00 approaches. I come home from work to a wonderful surprise. In an incredible act of kindness, I receive an early birthday present from a great friend. She has bought me my very own yoga mat. And she bought me an extra long one because I'm so tall. I can't wait to use it at Pilates on Saturday. I'm going to be the coolest person there. So let me say again, Thank You KP!

After that pleasant distraction, I clean some more because I'm incredibly antsy and I have nothing else to do. After what seems like days of waiting, I check the clock. It's only 5:45 and I have to wait another hour before I leave. Patience has never been a gift of mine, and today I am painfully aware of how not patient I am. I constantly pace through the house and fidget and squirm. Does that count as physical exertion?

I head over to the gym around 6:50 to meet my trainer at 7:00. I come in and none other than CJ is in the office. He cheerfully greets me and we have a brief conversation about my life. He is incredibly encouraging and kind and I start to feel guilty about judging him when I started at the gym. Plus, he makes reference to my blog so I'm pretty sure he's read it and I am thoroughly embarrassed. So CJ, if you're reading this, hopefully you've picked up on my sarcastic sense of humor and no that I tend to over-exaggerate. If not, I don't really know what to tell you.

I quickly change and come back upstairs to meet Justin, my trainer. I expected to have a trainer that was in good physical shape, but it's still my instant gut reaction to compare myself and feel inferior. We sit down and chat about what my goals are and I tell him the three main areas I want to work on are the Boobs, Belly, and Butt. The three B's, if you will. And you will, because I wrote them.

We talk for about half an hour and then he says we're going to go downstairs and he's going to kick my butt. Verbatim. Kill me now. We head to the cardio room first and where would he have me start but on the elliptical machine. I kind of hate you already, Justin. But at least he only makes me do five minutes and did I really think he wouldn't push me more than I would push myself? No. 

Then we go to the training room and he has me do push-ups, and side step with a band around my ankles. I can't do a real push-up to save my life, so he has me do standing push-ups, which are apparently also something I'm not incredibly good at. I alternate between those and the side steps, which are surprisingly difficult and my legs and butt really feel the burn after traveling maybe 10 yards.

After that, I get to take out my frustration by chucking a 20 pound exercise ball at the ground a total of 40 times. I'm convinced Justin miscounts at one point and I probably end up doing more like 43. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Then, I lay on my back on the floor and bridge it up to end the session. Surprisingly, I don't want to punch him in the face, but that may be because I barely have the strength to raise my arms above my waist. 

For those of you who don't know, this is 'bridge'. Minus those awful jeans.

Because we talked for the first half hour, he graciously offers to do another free half hour session next week, where he can kick my butt all over again. Why would I say no? This is what I signed up for. So I have another session to look forward to, next week. On my way home, I could cry because I have to strain to turn my steering wheel. Thanks a lot, Justin.

Burn...

I have to admit, I'm really enjoying this whole 'working out' thing. I am constantly and consistently forcing my coworkers to adhere to our Office Wellness program, and I get excited when I get to take 30 seconds to do planking. Today is no different, though Megan and I decide we'll be bold and plank for a full minute. Unfortunately, 45 seconds in to our planking, a customer stops in and ruins everything. So we do a 45 second plank and then a 30 second plank.

When I get home from work, Fit Andrew and I finish Resident Evil and then I start my yoga for the day. The yoga mat really does help. It gives me traction when I enter some of the more difficult poses. The planking at work is having an effect on my home yoga sessions because I can do the full 9 count plank without lowering to my knees like I used to have to do.

After the completion of my regular 20 minute workout, I decide to be a little adventurous and try the 12 minute 'Red Hot Core' workout. It's only an extra 12 minutes and I'm feeling super fit, so I tell myself this will be fine. Not the case. It's like Pilates day all over again. These exercises are ridiculous and make me realize that I do not have a whole lot of core strength.

One of the workouts I'm supposed to do is to lay on my back and alternate leg extensions. It is at this exact moment that I fully understand what it means to "work muscles I didn't even know I had". I feel the burn right under my sternum and it is quite the burn.

I'm even sweatier than usual after finishing the extra workout, but I still feel really awesome. I shower and after reflecting for 2 minutes on how much it sucks to shower and still be sweating when you're done, I clean for the rest of the night.

Shake...

I get home from work and my fit roommate is exercising. Gee, thanks for being so fit and still exercising and making me feel incredibly lazy. You're lucky you're so encouraging with my journey towards fitness or I'd want to kick you into a wall. Plus, it gives me good perspective that even fit people struggle and sweat while exercising, so I take it back. Keep up the good work Fit Andrew.

I have plans to go to Zumba with some friends later, but I still want to get in my yoga for the day. Fit Andrew has graciously bequeathed one of his old yoga mats to me, which makes a surprising difference in my workout. I don't fret about my sweat hitting the mat, I don't have to worry about getting crumbs on my back, and I don't slip around on the carpet when I do bridge pose. 

I leave for the gym as soon as I'm done with yoga and meet up with Christine and Lisa. Much like my Pilates experience, I'm the only male in the class and I'm the only person who has no experience with Zumba. This should be fun. After a brief explanation about what will be happening for the next hour, the instructor starts the music.

Let me take this opportunity to say, I have found my calling and my calling is Zumba. Zumba combines my need to workout with my desire to constantly bust a move. And I am REALLY good at busting a move. Many people are surprised to learn that I'm such a good dancer, but it's one of my favorite pastimes. The music is pumping and I'm jumping around, working my hips and flailing my arms in a very controlled way. I am oh so seductive. And 10 minutes in I am oh so sweaty. 

I mean, look at me go. I'm amazing.

Throughout the class, I do find myself having to modify the moves so that I don't keel over, but I surprise myself with my ability to keep up and have fun while exercising. The instructor comments on what a vocal class we are, and I credit myself for that. If anyone wants to do Zumba, I will absolutely go with you and you will absolutely have a blast. 

As the class winds down, we do a final stretching dance. This is the most fun I've ever had at a workout. One of the other members of the class, who must be a regular, tells my friends and me that we should come to the Sunday one too, because we made the class so much more enjoyable. You bet lady. You will see me there.

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.

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.

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.