Monday, April 9, 2018

Starting again... inches and pounds

Finding A New Motivation
It’s nearly 10 p.m. and I’m just now getting around to this blog.  I had to have a panic attack and moment of sheer HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING.

I’ve been talking about getting fit for ever. Having lost my friend Laura recently, its just been this thing that’s on my mind more and more. During her battle with cancer, Laura got crazy about her fitness. Now, I’m not going to tell you that she did this 180  and became a guru, but she was at times fanatic about being in the gym, working out, being as healthy as she could be. She still had her ups and downs, but she was in it to win.  Even at the end when we all knew there was just no possible way she was going to get into a gym in this realm again, she was focused on getting her physical therapy and then getting back to working out. There was no waivering about it. She was going to rehab and “I’m going to loose this fucking weight, Drea. I’m gonna bring sexy back….again.”

Like most of y’all, this isn’t my first weight loss Rodeo and as its an ongoing process, its not the last.  I’ve done it all from wraps to drinks, to pills and starvation.  With the exception of going under the knife and illegal drugs, if its out there as a way to loose weight, I’ve tried it.
And I’ve dropped them all just as fast as I started them. Well, almost all of them.  
Shortly B.C.B. (Before Cannon the Barbarian) I contacted a fitness coach and model that I knew on facebook and had him customize me a menu and a plan. Zac was and is a sweet heart. He talked me through everything and was sweet and encouraging. I weighed in 5lbs heavier than I am now. I did a pretty good job. I learned to make smarter food choices, I meal prepped like a five start chef. I wasn’t hungry in fact I was moody because I honestly got tired of eating. 8 meals a day was just insurmountable.  AND ALL THAT DAMN SALAD. DO YOU REALLY KNOW HOW BIG 3.5 oz of salad is?  Do you. DO. YOU.
I doubt you really do. AND IF YOU DO KNOW then your jaw immediately clinched the moment you read those words and you salivated and thought “alllllllllllll the cheeewwwwwinnnnggg. Mussssttttt sssssttttooooppppp chewing”
I didn’t do too heavy a work out…walking on the treadmill that I named “that fucking treadmill”.  I spent more time trying not to fall off of it than I want to admit.  And if you guys remember …I fell off it … a lot.

Anyway, nearly 3 years A.C.B ( keep up, After Cannon the Barbarian), I’m back to being 325 (I am supposed to say 324.8 and give my self little victories *rolling my eyes*) and I need to re group and go again.  I’ve been talking about getting MORE help than I had before since Cannon was 6 months old. I knew that this time the journey was going to be harder.  But I have a new motivation. I’m an older mom. Automatically my time with my little barbarian is shorter than if I’d had him in my early to mid-twenties. I don’t want to shorten that time further by being unhealthy.
I want and need to be able to keep up with him.  You all know very well that this boy hits the ground running every day.  There is no low gear, even when he is sick he is just barely letting off the throttle.  In a few short months he is going to be three years old. Ready to start pee wee athletics and just … everything you know. I need to be there for it all.

So there is that. The whys are just like they’ve always been. I want to be heathier. I want to be lighter and wear fun clothes.  I want to move easier, breath easier, and all of that.  I just want to be happier in my skin.

Biting Off More Than I Can Chew
This time, even though its been something on my mind for more than three years, getting fit was a spur of the moment decision. One of those time where the gym was offering an amazing fish hook deal to get you looped in for a year membership.  I knew it was a gimmick, but if not now when. They were offering the kind of motivation I’ve been telling anyone who’d listen I needed. Small personalized classes.  One on one attention. I can do this. I CAN DO THIS.

And then I looked at their customized (generic for everyone) meal plans and recipes. AND THEN they had the nerve to suggest that my big southern foodie ass try a 1200 calorie diet and I literally laughed in their faces. If I hadn’t already signed the contract I’d have walked out with the double Stone Cold Steve Austins in the air.
The regular menu was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was doable. That paleo/keto…no…just no…so many different no’s. GRANDIOUS AND OBNOXIOUS NOS.
SO I started searching for someone who could do the meal prep for me.   I can meal prep with the best of them, but I’d rather do laundry and we all know I HATE LAUNDRY. Through my searching I stumbled across Chef Eboni  and sometimes when spirit speak you leap.
And thank GOD I DID.
Because I’ve been ok until around 7 pm when I realized that I hadn’t eaten my third detox meal and I’m supposed to NOT eat after 7pm.  SUDDENLY I WAS RAVINOUS. I haven’t felt hungry all day. In fact, the only thing I’ve complained about is that I don’t like the kombucha … at all.
I stared at all the food in the kitchen and there wasn’t anything in there that I was sure I could eat. I mean truthfully, there were some options, but I’m supposed to be detoxing for three days.
I literally had a panic attack. I started sweating. I mean I managed to deliver 5 roasted chickens and not have a break down, but now…NOOOWWW I was super starving. I had already tried distracting myself. I had taken nap, drank some water all the things you’re supposed to do to get past the anxiety. SO I text Chef E and she was supper patient. She let me rant and scream about being hungry.  Then she talked me down. Gave me options to help me customize this detox to help get through this week. 
Tomorrow morning is my first day in the gym. So I’ll post all my stats and all that crap  after I drag myself home and cry about how awful it was

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