The Wife Weighs In...Week 9

Good morning, GHMIW fans!

All right…let’s get it over with. Get a cup of coffee…it’s going to be a long one.

I am bitter. Here’s the story:

As reported last week, I visited our local gym/club/den of Satan for a tour of the facilities. After some general waffling (mmm…waffles) I went back Saturday morning to enroll/enlist/sign away a little piece of my soul. I avoided signing up for any extra programs, which was a big success for me. At that point, we set up an appointment for the first of two complimentary consultations with a personal trainer.

Sunday morning at 8:45, I left for the gym. I was bright and shiny, excited about the first day of the rest of my life, excited about the prospect of my new lifestyle, excited about the new body I was going to earn. I was like a little girl on her first day of school (maybe it was the pigtails). At 9:00, I sat down in front of a rather large 27-year old with a shaved head. I’ll call him "Jason" (‘cause that’s his name).

I told "Jason" that I had lost 35 pounds and that I had about 50 to go. I also told him that my ultimate goal is being able to wear more body-conscious clothing (okay, let's be honest...I told him I would like to have a body that could pull off slutty clothes if I so chose) and, while I am excited to reap the health benefits of exercise, my main motivation is pure vanity. He liked my honesty. I thought we were off to a good start.

This was an assessment session, so I got on the treadmill, did some (very few) push-ups, and some stretching. I also had my body fat measured. Let me say that I was not shocked when I found out that the results were not glowing. I haven’t exercised on a regular basis in over 10 years. It wasn’t an earth-shattering realization that I am not the picture of fitness. I know that I am a "before" (or possibly an "a little while later")…I was there because I want to be an "after."

Over the next 20 to 30 minutes, Jason told me (among other things) that my eating was "for sh*t," rolled his eyes when I mentioned Weight Watchers, and scoffed at my mention of a yoga class by telling me it was "really only glorified stretching." What was most annoying was that he really didn’t listen to anything I had to say. He would ask me a question, then start rolling his eyes and shaking his head before I’d even completed my answer, all the while watching what was going on in the rest of the gym instead of focusing on me and our conversation.

In that short amount of time, I went from being an intelligent, sassy, strong, confident woman who had made positive and successful changes in her life to being a stupid, lazy "fat chick" who had achieved nothing and had no idea what she was talking about. And, for a brief moment, he succeeded at making me see myself through his eyes.

We made an appointment for 8:00 Monday night. I met my neighbor Ali for yoga at 7:00…definitely not just glorified stretching. I loved it. By the time I sat down in front of Jason once again I had some sore muscles, but I had shaken off the negative stuff from the day before and was ready to get to work. It didn’t go well. The workout was tough (which I was fine with), but I didn’t have his full attention and he wasn’t supportive. I had hoped for an experience where I felt like I had a partner in the fight, but he was all about negative motivation. I felt as though he was trying to motivate me by making me feel bad about myself, like he was punishing me for being out of shape, instead of wanting to help me achieve something. It was really yucky.

When I told him that I couldn’t afford the more than $500 a month to work with him, he completely wrote me off. Obviously, my priorities weren’t in the right place and my goals weren't really all that important to me. When I asked him about planning a session every three months or so, in order to assess my progress and change up my program, his response was, "Well, I guess it would be better than nothing."

I left the gym feeling kind of embarrassed, kind of ashamed, and kind of like I should ask for my money back. All this from a gym whose sell line is… wait for it… FEEL GOOD INSIDE.

I went back Tuesday morning at 6:30 (very sore) for 45 minutes on the treadmill, and felt better. I went back Wednesday morning at 6:30 (still quite sore) for an hour on the treadmill, and felt even better. I decided to take sort of a "to hell with him" attitude about the whole thing and use it as additional motivation for my success. I went back to the gym on Thursday morning at 6:00 for cardio warm-up, strength training, and an additional 30 minutes on the treadmill, and felt pretty darn fantastic. My attitude about the club has turned around (okay, it's not really a "den of Satan"). I even ran into an acquaintance who works out early every morning...she was positive, supportive, and glad to see me.

This week marks some major successes. Joining a gym, overcoming the scourge that is "Jason" (who totally didn’t even have the decency to say "hello" when I greeted him with a cheery and smiling "good morning" on Wednesday...jerk), getting to the gym at an ungodly hour three days in a row, and finding out that I think am really going to enjoy this exercise thing. Hurray for me!

So, why am I so bitter? I gained 1.4 pounds.

This leaves me with 5 weeks to lose 8.8 pounds, including Thanksgiving. Therefore, I am readjusting my goal. My new goal is to reach 182 pounds by February 1. 182 pounds will move me from being obese to simply overweight…and won’t that be a happy thing?

Have a great weekend, all…and a happy Thanksgiving! No weigh-in for me next Friday, unless I decide to find a WW meeting in Davenport, Iowa. I know it’s a possibility, but is my actually making it there really all that likely?

Laura

11/09/2007: 192.4 pounds
11/09/2007: 193.8 pounds (a gain of 1.4 pounds)
Total loss: 34.6 pounds

New mini-goal: 182 pounds by February 1
11 weeks and 11.8 pounds to go!

P.S. Thanks to Angela for being so supportive about my wanting to give in to evil foods last week. I also had a lot of support from other friends and family (thanks, too!), who congratulated me for not giving in to my cravings. After reading that, I thought to myself, "The word 'cravings' seems a little off the mark. It’s not really about just wanting to enjoy some French fries…in fact, it’s not even really about the food at all." DING! What an epiphany.

P.P.S. I wonder how it’s going to be before Tony tells me to get my own darn blog and stop trying to take his over.