I had to add a weekly out-of-office Outlook meeting for Thursdays a bit of a while ago. See, the company I work for has pretty flexible hours. There’s core hours from 10:00 ’til 3:00, and you have to work 8 hours (plus unpaid lunch) so long as it spans across that time. I generally go for 7:15 - 4:00, with 45 minute lunch. Give or take the time it takes me to get the hell out of bed.
Everyone in the department knows that. So they feel bad when they schedule meetings for 4:00 PM. But it wasn’t stopping them from doing it. My calendar looks clear. Why not, right?
So, I rebelled. But only on Thursdays. Every Thursday, my calendar has me out of the office starting at 4:00 PM. No one will stop me. No one will be scheduling a meeting. I’m gone.
Where am I at 4:00? In my car, on my way back to the burbs. I drive down the road, past my apartment complex, and into the Gold’s Gym parking lot. Thursdays are my days for meeting with Donna, my trainer.
It’s been a little over a year since I decided to bite the bullet and kick myself into shape. It was not a New Years’ Resolution. It was not a spur of the moment idea. It was something that had to happen, and I finally stopped lying to myself.
I’d been a member of the gym for over a year before my first meeting with Donna. I would go through spurts of gym attendance followed by spurts of severe laziness. I lied to myself and tried to convince myself I was actually getting thinner. I guess it was better that I stopped gaining weight for a while.
That while didn’t last. Neither did my spurts of gym attendance. I ballooned up to my highest and most disgusting (to me anyway) weight. I thought I could kick myself back into shape, so I made the week between Christmas and New Years “work out like it’s your job week,” since I didn’t have to work, but Mike did. Some days went well, others I just wimped out and rode a stationary bike for 20 minutes. Better than nothing, but definitely not good enough.
So, around the 9th (if I remember correctly) of January, I was at the gym pretending to be a good girl, and I spotted a sign in the locker room. It was printed on Gold’s Gym Gold paper, and it started off with some kind of eye catching font telling me that fad diets aren’t the answer. Amen to that! I’ve never believed that any kind of fad diet would have a long term effect. I’ve watched my mother lose and gain and lose and gain with fad diets ranging from Weight Watchers to the “eat grapefruit before every meal” diet.
I read that whole sign; and it told me about a 5-part program. It told me that exercise alone wouldn’t help. It told me that nutrition is not dieting. It told me that supplements can help. It told me that weight training and cardio are both necessary to drop the fat. And it told me that I didn’t have to do it alone.
I nervously marched myself up to the front desk and asked about the program. The front desk guys had obviously not been trained in answering these questions, but they worked together to explain that 10 pounds of fat (not weight) loss (or muscle gain, for muscley-types) were guaranteed. He then asked me if I knew which trainer I wanted, I told him I didn’t, and he picked Donna at seemingly random. (I later found out that the front desk guy was her son, but who cares, I love her.)
I called her, and we set up our first appointment. She measured me, she weighed me, she talked to me about food, I got emotional about how important this was, and we made plans for the next appointment. She helped me schedule out a week of exercising. She made me commit to it. She helped me plan out nutritious food in small amounts scattered throughout the day (5 small meals, not 3 huge ones). She made me promise. She explained that there could be some give, that I didn’t have to be perfect, that eating dinner out once a week wouldn’t kill me if I didn’t stuff my face. She explained everything to me, and made me feel like this was truly possible.
I didn’t just lose 10 pounds of fat in the first 10 weeks. I lost 12 pounds of weight. I probably lost more fat; due to my starting to gain muscle mass.
This was something I had to do. I was going to do. Nothing was going to stop me.
One year later, I still refuse to miss a meeting with Donna. I do what she tells me to (give or take the occasional cheating… but she forgives me). She’s really nice and fun to talk to. She makes me want to do it. She makes me believe in myself, even when I went through seemingly endless plateaus.
One year later, I am partially addicted to the program’s sponsor’s protein shakes. I can’t imagine eating huge meals any more. Eating large amounts of fat or skipping a day at the gym makes me feel sick. I have almost become a health nut. A health nut who occasionally eats ice cream, but at least it’s low-fat or a small serving (or both, if I’m being especially good).
One yar later, I can run up a flight of stairs without having to stop half-way to catch my breath. I can snowboard, if poorly (I can not imagine fat-Diane trying to do that). I learned that I like to run and jog outside. I can lift weights that I collapsed under a year ago.
One year later, I’ve lost 34 solid pounds, at a sustainable rate. Thirty-four. I’m down 2 pants sizes, 3 dress sizes, and some nebulous amount of shirt sizes (I’ve never really found consistency in the sizing of shirts…). Shopping for clothes, which I still do occasionally hate, doesn’t make me nauseous. I’m healthier. I’m happier.
I’m not done. I’m not fully cooked. I’m staying in this oven until the last 24 pounds are gone. But I’m going to kill them, with Donna’s help, and we’re going to make sure they never ever come back.
Friday, January 20th, 2006 • 1:18 pm • dinane •
Health •
2 Comments