Last night I went to the gym and did my 30-minute workout instead of pretending I was going to the gym and having my 30-minute latte at Starbucks.
Seriously, what the hell is happening to me?
On top of that, I seem to be shedding 2 pounds in between each visit. Ok, don’t get excited; it is most likely just boob fluctuation owing to the timing of nursing/weighing in, but still – it’s encouraging, y’know?
So encouraging that I keep freakin going back. Back to the sweating, the pedaling, the pushing, the total focus – and that’s just to get myself there.
I know that many of you – you keener, athletic types – are shaking your heads and wondering what the hell makes me think I’m so big just because I am exercising. But those of you that KNOW me are shaking your heads because you are wondering what happened to the real kgirl – the one that does not like to run, sweat, get bossed around or wear spandex.
Rest assured that she is still here, friends. And she is still not wearing spandex. In fact, one of the reasons I joined this gym in particular is because a) it is only for women but it is not the right-wing pro-life fascist don’t-even-get-me-started Curves, and b) I can show up in cut-off sweats, lululemons that give awesome camel toe or a t-shirt with coffee stains on it and not feel like a total shlepper. I mean, I have great sneaks for working out in (I am a girl, after all), but I am not good at looking put together, particularly at the gym, where I feel like I am about to be torn apart anyway.
Oh yeah, and did I mention the front ass? That was about all the motivation this once-skinny bitch needed to start really moving again.
And by golly, it’s paying off. You know, until very recently I basically had no idea what my c-section scar looked like, because my paunch kept it hidden from view. Now, I can actually see it when I look in the mirror, and I’m making friends with it. I’m happy to see it. It means the ass is shrinking. I mean, I likes me some bootay, but I want the junk in my trunk, not hitched up front like a silly old-school vw bug.
The other thing is that I actually feel good when I’m done my workout. Once I’ve caught my breath and high-fived my coaches, I feel pretty darn great. Like I can go back home and keep up with my kids for a few more hours, or at least eat a bowl of cereal and watch Project Runway without falling asleep before the winner is finally revealed. (Yay, Christian! Holla!)
So, will I keep this up?
We’ll see. History says no; front bum says yes.
I’ll keep you posted.