Mondays suck

 So I take my rest days on Saturday and Sunday. I know that probably isn’t the best schedule but it is what works for me. I am entering week 3 of my new workout routine and I have to say that even though Mondays are the worst, I am still keeping up with things. I can’t tell a difference in my body yet but I am trying to give myself a fair chance. It did make my heart happy to hear my trainer say that he can tell an improvement and I will say looking back from the very first day of boxing class today I am able to even attempt and accomplish most of the exercises that are done in class. So even though the scale which is my Nemesis says that I’ve had the nerve to gain for more pounds I am taking this as a victory. I plan on taking my measurements after the end of this week. Because my boxing club has a promotion going that if I do 16 workouts in 30 days I get my orientation money back, so this Friday will mark workout number 16 in three weeks. I figured that’s as good a milestone as any to check my progress. I just can’t wait for the day when I see real Improvement in my body and not what I perceive as imagined Improvement. I know it takes time but I feel like I don’t have that much time left in my life. I don’t have a reason to feel that way , i  just do. I don’t want to go into my 40th year feeling like my body is my worst enemy.


I can’t wait to get to the point where I look forward to working out everyday. There are people I’m told that do and I want to be one of those people really bad. I can’t wait to be one of those people who gets a runner’s high after their workout.  That burst of energy seems mythical to me, like something you tell fat people about to get them going and behaving right just like your parents told you about Santa Claus. I can’t wait to see what I look like in a month 2 months 6 months a year. I feel like if I knew what I could be that I would be more motivated to go after it. Today is really hard for some reason and I don’t know why. I know that I struggle with depression and after my mirror episode yesterday and the fact that I was stupid and stood on the scale again today with absolutely zero change in weight, getting up and going is really difficult. I have a lot of stuff to do and it would be so easy to just let that be an excuse to not go and workout. But here I am, dressed in my workout clothes with my shoes on and I’m ready to walk out to the car to drive to class. And instead of finding something else to do that is “more important”, I am choosing to make a blog post where I bitch and moan for a second and then I go to the gym.

Today is one of those digdeep days, where I am fighting against myself. And I can’t let the fat lazy version of me win. I’ve let her control my life for too long. 

Just don’t look

I am done with my 9th workout and I’m feeling pretty good for the most part,  with the exception of my dumb knee that likes to play tricks.  One of the trainers today mentioned that I don’t seem to be hurting enough and that he would like to see me push myself more during my boxing sessions.  So I huffed and puffed my way through leg lifts crunches and all other unspeakable exercises. Everything was great until I looked straight ahead and saw myself in the mirror. 

Shouldn’t  have done that. When I’m working out I go into a special place of focus where I sweat and push myself hard but I don’t see myself or anybody else. It’s just me and the heavy bag. I also forget there is a big mirror in the front of the room. Today I saw myself and it was horrifying. I looked a total wreck lumpy and lazy because I was moving slower than anyone else in the room. All the sudden all my hard work felt like I was doing it for nothing and my demons raised their heads and screamed at me to just give up because there was no point.  How did I let myself get so bad? Is it because I have selective perception and I only see the good things about myself and listen to the good things that are said that about me by other people. I have horrible body dysmorphia so that doesn’t help. 

I made it through my workout and I made myself go swimming and kept my routine. I think it’s going to be my routine that saves me just as long as I don’t look in that mirror again. At least not for a while.

So it begins. Again.

So I’m terrible with keeping a blog.  I had started one a while ago to chronicle my struggles with my body and weight loss,  then I dropped it. I just looked at it….it was 3 YEARS since I worked on it.  It just doesn’t seem real.  So I’m trying again.  Started a new one out of shame.  I just turned 39 and I feel a lot of times that I’m not only riding the struggle bus, but I’m also driving it… and navigating it straight into hell. 

I’m heavier than I have ever been.  Some of it came from the massive amount of steroids I had to take me because my ITP episode. In fact, I gained about 50 lbs from them. The other 30 came from depression and medicating myself with food.  

I tried everything including considering stomach surgery.  Which btw, my insurance denied.  Thanks jerks.  So I decided on my birthday,  which was a week ago, to join a boxing club.  Because I really want to just beat the hell out of something and not go to jail.  

I know myself.  I need structure.  Accountability. Goals.  So they are running a special right now that refunds me my orientation fee if I complete 16 sessions in 30 days.  I’m 7 workouts in. Lol plus I go swim for 1/2 hour after every session. It relaxes me plus the hot tub after feels fantastic. 

So this is where I am.  Struggling.  39 years old with no major health issues (THANK THE GODS) and I’m 334 lbs. I’m not going to weigh myself until I complete that first goal of 16 workouts.  Let’s see what happens.