Last Monday, I started really focusing on losing the baby weight – thanks to her getting a team together to try and lose the pounds together. I did great right off the bat, then, it rained for three days, it’s now red tent week, and the 2 scoops of ice cream I had last night were. totally. worth. it.
Scout and I once joined a gym. It did not begin well. Here is my reflection on that:
Do not, I repeat, do not join a gym and have your fitness assessment the day before you start your period. Also if you happen to be caught in a traffic that makes a 40 minute drive take 2 hours and 11 minutes – also just call the damn gym and cancel the appointment (please note where I was sitting in traffic is the highway where the bridge collapsed this summer). If your English import sports bra (the only f*cking place on the planet that markets a sports bra actually effective for what I need a sportsbra for) has not yet come in, take it as a sign and do NOT go to the appointment.
If you do not heed this advice you will almost roll your eyes at the nutrition counselor. You will get teary eyed when your husband tries to comfort you b/c he’s a smart boy and recognizes the signs of impending emotional disaster but has not yet come to realize that touching at this moment of pre-explosion only brings doom closer.
After your nutrition session where you learn that the counselor won’t even answer a simple question about SERVING SIZE without referring you to her low low price intro program of 129 (and 99 cents of course) with followup sessions of 89.99 (why don’t they just round up? does their computer system not have a zero on the keyboard?) you will be uncharacteristically pissed. Oh the fact that your BMI=overweight isn’t helping either.
The pissed feeling from this, when combined with the next task in 10 minutes of your fitness assessment with a muscle bound dude will manifest itself in an embarrassed crying fit in the front of the gym.
When you actually go for the fitness assessment your tender baby feelings will get hurt in all new ways when muscle bound plunks the results of your test down – The good news is that I have “average” bicep strength …. for a woman of course. I have poor flexibility – even though Scout did tell me afterward that the machine quit recording before I was done “flexing” so we’ll just disregard that score until later. THEN I have 33% body fat – guess who’s breathing on the door of obese in a way that if I turn too quickly I might knock it down with my “overweight” ass? My personal favorite was the cardio – after a nice brisk 5 minute walk that actually didn’t make me feel like I was going to die I felt pretty good till the treadmill kicks out “Below Average – 25.” Huh, yeah, turns out I need my cardio score to go up like 3 points before I can even work my way up to the “poor” range.
And to top it off – my body age is 38. uh huh. 38. But for about 900 dollars and eight sessions with a trainer I could be well on my way away from not being almost 40.
Your freak show somewhat in shape, TALL, possessing of a metabolism husband will choose to stay behind and run a couple miles. This works well b/c you can go home, bawl into your cat’s fur (I do not mean this euphemistically as a ‘pussy’ kind of joke – I’m not that flexible – see the above score for proof of that) snot on husband’s pillow and moan over aching boobs (see no sports bra reference above).
You will say screw it and order bbq pizza, and cheese bread and drink DP with schnapps for dinner. This will make you rather amorous as the schnapps hits your system. This will make you romance your husband. This will work really well until the schnapps wears off about the time it gets really interesting and the aches and pains in the boobs and the cramps will overtake any fun and you plead a raincheck with your husband for another night.
You will awake the next morning and be thrilled when you see your period has started. This will confirm that you are not loony, depressed, fat, weak, unsexy, or any of the other things that have wandered through your mind – including pregnant.
So to sum up – no gym assessment when premenstrual. Don’t do it.
For the record – Mrs. Flinger has never made me cry. Or asked me for 900 dollars.
Argh @ how bad we feel about our bodies sometimes.
I hope your new swing at things is successful!
If I could just get Halloween to get here and get the DAMN CANDY out of the house… maybe I could lose the last 10 lbs of the weight I gained.
But then there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas.
I think I need to be locked in the closet myself.
Better go get Braden out of there.
This was the most depressing post. Ever. It reminded me of me. The sore boobs. The need for highly engineered sports bras. The sad state of cardio capacity. The chasm of difference between what apparently IS a serving size and what I have come to think of a serving size….which incidentally I had been feeling good about my own version of a serving size since it was so very much smaller than a restaurant size…but then I learn that I should take the 1/4 of a restaurant serving that I had thought SHOULD be a serving size and quarter it AGAIN to get a REAL serving size…which by the way, is like 5 pieces of dry rigatoni. Depressing.
Oh my. What an awful experience. And why I refuse to even put batteries in the freakin’ scale!
I’m so sorry you had such a horrid experience…but this did make me laugh a bit! 🙂 I think we’ve all been there and felt like shit about ourselves…quite often. Thank you for being honest and sharing!
I think Curves had a great idea: DON”T MAKE WOMEN FEEL LIKE SHIT FOR BEING A WOMAN!
And Mrs. Flinger is following suit! Even if you slip, long term consistency will get you to your weight loss goals! (My friend is also doing that challenge, she has been finding ways to work out inside because where she is…it rains almost daily!)
Here’s the thing: I’m in a sucky body place, too! I’m frustrated, I’m tired, it’s raining and it’s my birthday (read: eating out and parties! drinks!) so you know? It’s way better to hear someone else say “I understand, now, let’s do this together” than having hunk-a-hunk-a tell you how to look like him and since you don’t, well, you suck.
We don’t suck, hon. We’re in a process of changing and it takes time. I so love that you joined us!
Weight. What a bunch of shite.
Hydes Like Us
Oh he-yell no. I don’t need to pay somebody $900 to tell me I’m “below average”. 😉
Oh my gosh that part about crying into your pussy just about made me pee in my fat pants.
$900 could be vacation
Nothing like the pain of tender breasts bouncing without the support of an athletic bra…I feel your pain. It will never be so bad again. You go, girl.
Ok seriously, I couldn’t even read all of this post. Just skimmed it. As soon as I saw “gym” and “weight” I sobbed into my brownie and knew I didn’t need to read more…Except then I did see some mention of BBQ pizza and schnapps which made me respect you all over again. You go girl.
Um, could you lose my baby weight too?
the egel nest
At least you have your menstrual cycle as an excuse…imagine ME trying to use that excuse…lol
The Egel Nest
This was so funny! “If you do not heed this advice you will almost roll your eyes at the nutrition counselor. You will get teary eyed when your husband tries to comfort you b/c he?¢‚Ç¨‚Ñ¢s a smart boy and recognizes the signs of impending emotional disaster but has not yet come to realize that touching at this moment of pre-explosion only brings doom closer.” – so funny! I enjoyed this post tremendously- see ya.
I don’t mean to laugh, but omg, as someone who struggles with PMS and body issues on a regular basis, I laughed my ass off — because you could have been describing any one of my recent visits to the gym.
No trainers or counselors for me. Just my own self-pity and horrifying moments on the scales in the locker room. (Why do they put those right by the entrance, so that anyone entering can immediately see how fat you are? Ugh.)
And the amorous moment that turns quickly to a raincheck? Me too. Hubs says my favorite word is “tomorrow.” Hmm… maybe that’s my post for tonight. I’ve been stuck on a topic.
Yeah PMS and fitness testing = disaster.
Actually PMS and anything = disaster.
I would have thrown things at the musclebound hunk.
Kelli @ Gohn Crazy
Hahaha! I enjoyed this post very much. Excellent!