It is now week TWELVE of my workout extravaganza. TWELVE! Let’s discuss results:
- NO weight loss has occurred (because it’s impossible to give up wine and other than that I don’t know why I wouldn’t be losing weight, oh yeah except for HORMONES). But I haven’t gained weight either.
- I have lost NO inches except for maybe a quarter inch around my waist, but really that could just be the time of day I measured it, you know?
So all of my over reached expectations (fitting into special jeans by Thanksgiving, wearing more than two outfits in my closet) did not only NOT realize themselves after six weeks, but not even after twelve!
Honestly, I have never worked my body so much in my life. It just seems impossible that nothing has changed; impossible and yet here I am three months later exactly the same except for some more defined shoulders and a glimpse of biceps, which is great, but jesus. Give me a break. Its hard not to think I am a failure. SOMETHING has to be happening, right? I mean, you can’t just work a body the way that I have and have no change. RIGHT?
I’ll attribute it to my age and to hormones. It may take twenty-four weeks instead of twelve to jump start this body. And probably calling it quits on all alcohol for a month or two at least. Just in time for the holidays! YAY! :(
Truth be told, I was at pilates a week ago (I go once a week to stretch out my muscles) and we did this move called Teaser, which is pretty much sitting on your tailbone, holding your body in a “V” shape, arms overhead, legs at 45 degrees. You get the picture. It is all abs. And I not only got myself into that position with ease, but held it the whole time without groaning or quitting half way through. When I returned to a normal position the instructor said, “Dude! You are so much stronger!”.
And she’s right. I AM stronger. Beneath the surface of this still hot-flashing body, my muscle groups are forming an invisible army of strength. Hopefully, they will become more visible and less stealthy beneath my quivering flesh as I begin the next session, this time for seven weeks.
And that’s enough about that.
This past week I have been thinking a lot about what’s important in life. How what we talk about and engage in shapes and informs our lives. And about compassion for other people. And how thinking and writing about my workout struggles and hot flashes are so utterly UN-important in the scheme of things, yet can fill my mind completely. It’s time to start building some other muscles; strength based in giving more, loving more, caring more, and being a little softer towards myself and towards the people who matter the most to me. And especially towards the people I come in contact with on a daily basis that I know nothing about. I’d like to start thinking and writing about those things. Hot flashes be damned.