Finding Kickboxing

About a year or so ago, the woman who cuts my hair and I were chatting about life and we rolled somehow onto the topic of exercise. I was telling her that I used to take a "real" kickboxing class back in the mid-90s, and have been unable to find a class like that again. I've been to plenty of the cardio-kickboxing type of classes, but it's simply not the same as having an actual bag to kick and hit. A wonderful stress reliever, if truth be told. She mentioned that she had been attending a kickboxing class just down the street for awhile now and that I should come by and check it out. That's just what I did...

A year later. Okay, so perhaps I'm not the quickest responder of calls to action, but I got there eventually. Sometimes people just need time to figure things out for themselves, and for me, it took about a year to get my rear physically to where it needed to be. Today was that first class. Having taken kickboxing before (though many years ago), I knew I would be sore after the class, but even having that knowledge, I wasn't prepared for the pain that awaited me. I had been warned by other attendees to be prepared for a diet of ibuprofen for the next several days to help alleviate some of the aches. I'm not much of a pill taker (even aspirin), so I really didn't want to go down that road. However, after a short amount of time feeling the pain, I went ahead and gave in to the suggestion.

This class is going to be awesome. The owner allows a week of attendance to figure out whether or not it's the right thing for the individual, but I can tell that this is exactly what I am in need of right now. It's not the cheapest thing ever, but at the same time, can I really put a price on health? I feel like I have found my exercise home. Even if it doesn't last long term, I can sense that this is setting me down the right path.

Here's to exercise - and all those wonderful, wonderful endorphins that come along with it!

That Was Fast

In 11 days, I have lost 10 pounds. I made a promise to myself that I would not remove my workout clothes (except for bed time/shower time) until I lost that amount of weight. It happened so swiftly that I almost think I should extend the goal. Perhaps not being able to wear "real" clothes was more motivating than even I thought it would be? Regardless, it's nice to have a few pounds off and see that there is potential for light at the end of the tunnel. I can't see the light just yet, but at least there is a tunnel, and how long can a tunnel really be after all? Maybe no one should answer that question as it could be discouraging.

We are slated to visit relatives in California in mid-August and I am hoping that I will be able to drop a significant amount of weight by that time. The biggest struggle is that I am aware of how my body works and although I have lost this initial weight quite quickly, it will slow down dramatically I am quite certain from this point forward. Still... we all must have goals to accomplish, and seeing judgmental relatives might just be the motivation I need. Ahh, judgmental relatives... motivating even the unmotivatable <-- Is that a word?

Fortunately, there is really only one judgmental relative, and unfortunately, it is my relative. I do my best to avoid topics that I know will start us down the path of judgment, but it's almost inevitable that within a relatively short span of time, I will either be 1) angry and defensive, or 2) in tears. Isn't that what vacation is really about - or maybe those are just my vacations.

On the up side, I have started my way down a healthier path and I've hit a marker that is a good start. Now, I just have to keep that motivation going and know that the rest will ultimately go as well.

Day One

Everyone who begins a weight loss journey seems to have a dramatic story or something that pushed them over the edge to get going with losing the excess fat. I suppose I'm no different. You see, yesterday was the 10 year anniversary of my husband's and my meeting. Ten years. That's a pretty big marker. In that ten years, I have gained about 40-45 pounds. It's difficult to admit that, but I think it's part of the process of recognizing that as much as I like to say that I don't mind being overweight, I really do.

Normally, I am a fairly healthy person in terms of not getting sick, and really even my blood work always comes back with a green light. I don't remember the last time I was out with some kind of illness, but in late December I started getting flu like symptoms and figured I was due for some kind of bed rest. When it sill hadn't gone away in early March, I knew it was time to go to the doctor for antibiotics. I don't normally look at the scale when I visit the doctor because I don't want to think about the number I'm seeing. It's always more than it should be and I am quite used to having doctors tell me that I need to lose. On this particular occasion, I made the mistake of looking. {sigh} It was... unfortunate.

This visit to the doctor happened to overlap the 10 year anniversary, and I think the realization of knowing how much I'd gained not only since my husband and I had met, but also just since the beginning of the year spurred me to action. What happens if I do nothing and just keep gaining? How long will it be before I won't even be able to do the things I enjoy? I couldn't imagine not being able to walk the dogs or ride my bike, or any number of other things. What if I died tragically somewhere? Would they even be able to pick me up to throw me in a grave or into the incinerator? A morbid thought, I am aware, but it did cross my mind.

Today is day one. Despite all the attempts in the past and subsequent failures, I have to start fresh and know that it is possible to conquer this mighty mountain. I have lost in the past, and I will lose again. I am starting by recording food intake on an online calorie counting website. It's a start. I haven't been to the gym since, hmm, probably November-ish, so I know I need to figure out what to do to get myself motivated in that arena again as well. I think just starting out with walking is the best course of action. Since clothes are the only thing that seem to motivate me, I have made a pact with myself that I will not get out of gym clothes for any purpose until I lose 10 pounds. It's a lofty goal, but if I work hard, it shouldn't take long.

And away I go...

New Beginnings

This is the story of how one fat girl is turning into a very strong woman. As I begin the story, I should point out that I am, indeed, still the fat girl, but I believe with every ounce of my being that it is possible to become the strong woman I know I can be. My story may or may not coincide with yours, and you may or may not find that you identify with pieces of my tale, but either way I hope to re-motivate myself when needed, and have some history to be able to look over when I am feeling down.

What's my story? I have been overweight (obese) my entire life. I am (according to the doctor's charts) extremely overweight. How did it happen? Slow and steady. You'd think with that much extra weight it would be difficult to get around, but I've adapted, and I've always been active. Although not horribly coordinated, I do enjoy sports, riding a bike, and believe it or not, I even ran and completed a marathon just a few years ago (even with all the excess weight).

I sometimes think I came out of the womb a chunky baby because the universe knew that it would be cruel to make me thin for a few months, only to immediately turn into a chunk-a-dunk child. My entire family has been overweight or obese at various points in their individual lives. My husband is not fat. He is athletic and strong, and I sometimes wonder why a person who's in such great shape (even without trying) would want to be with someone who is struggling to fit into her tent-sized jeans.

When we first dated, I was smaller, but not by much. Our initial meeting was somewhat a blind date and I was not thrilled with the prospect of meeting someone who didn't know what I looked like. I don't think I'm ugly, but so many people in this world are obsessed with body image, and I didn't want to deal with another rejection (particularly from someone I was trying to date), nor was I interested in landing a "chubby chaser." As the universe would have it, we were stuck like glue to each other pretty much from that first date. Little did I know that he was a perfect balance for all the madness that is my life. He sees the beauty when I have only disgust. I hope to see myself through his eyes one day.

While there is much more to the story, I suppose I will leave it there for now. Tomorrow is a new day - that is the beauty of each morning - no matter what has happened, I can make the choice to start fresh again.