A Day At The Gym

I have done it! I went to the gym. For some that may not be much - but for me it's a milestone.

I've been going for about a week now, with my best friend. I went 2 days last week, and I went for the first time this week today. I want to get about 3 workouts at the gym a week. And I want to do some sort of physical activity at least once a day. Except for maybe Sunday. Sunday's a good day to chill out.

So....the gym. Yeah. What is it about the gym that scares me so much? Let me give you a day in the life of Fatty McGee at the Gym.

9:30 AM - Trying to get some extra hours of sleep after putting my son on the bus. I toss, I turn, I cover my eyes with a sock, and the Hubby wakes me up to tell me that my friend C called and wants to go to the gym. The tossing and turning turns into moaning and groaning, because all I want to do is SLEEP. I went to bed at 3 am, woke up at 8. But, I know if I don't do this today, I won't do it later on. Time to start making myself do what I don't want to do. So I get up, throw on the famed red underwire bra, and get ready to work out at the gym. Oh, the fun, the fun.

10:15 AM - C picks me up and off we go. Talk, talk, talk. Ok we're here. I go in and the first thing I need is my credit card, I'm thirsty and have no pockets and no change. I'm too lazy to carry a wallet around the gym (carrying a drink is enough of a pain) so I yank my card out of my bra strap, and swipe me a Gatorade. Pull my membership card from the same place, ignore the stares, and in we go.

You're smiling and running? I hate you.

10:30 AM - I'm here. Goody.  Now, I will state right here for the record that there is no way I would be here without C. We have a women's only part of the gym, and although it's women - it's still intimidating. Miss Skinny Blonde is on the floor doing crunches, and Beautiful Brunette is on the elliptical. I make my way to the treadmill, while C tans a little, and start warming up. Setting the treadmill on 1.5, off I go. I work up a sweat, and feel like I'm booking it along - I'm doing great! Then I look over at the other girls....and they're running. Running. Sheesh. Note to self - buy blinders.

11:00 AM - C's done and we start the weights. Machines only - I'm not crazy enough to pretend I know how to lift free weights. We make the rounds, and I notice one thing. Weight machines do not come in plus sizes. My hips and thighs hang over the edge of every seat. I look around and wonder how many people are laughing at me, and how many are waiting for me to break the machine. the only thing that keeps me going is talking to C. Distraction is my friend here. The good thing is, every muscle feels every move, so I'm doing something right somehow.

11:30 AM - Back to the cardio stuffs. C gets on the elliptical, and I decide to join her. 2 minutes later and I decide to try the bicycle. 2 seconds later, I just stick to the treadmill. My butt's too big for anything else, and my thighs can't handle elliptical workouts. C's going on 2 miles, and I'm working on 5 minutes of walking at 1.5. This is truly sad. I see many different people starting to work out - a Muslim lady, a lady with 5 pounds of green eyeshadow on (at the gym?!?! Really?) and a middle aged lady doing yoga on the floor. She has a bit of a muffin top too, so I don't feel so bad. But now it's time to leave. Note to self - find out when the fat people go to the gym so I don't feel so alone.

12:00 AM - Back in the van, cooling off, I decide to go to Subway and get me a foot long veggie on wheat. For fun I decide to try spinach leaves, I hear they're good for you. I even feel stupid ordering veggie on wheat, because I just know they're waiting for me to order the meatball sub with 3 cookies. I fool them all - I get Baked Lay's. Ha. Time to go home and eat in peace and anonymity.

So that's it. Every time. The gym scares me, but since I have C, I can handle it. I know I can do this, I just have to be as stubborn about this as I am about getting up and going to McDonald's for breakfast.

The Moment Of Awareness

I woke up one warm morning in May, slowly getting out of bed, wearing the customary pajama pants and requisite grubby T-shirt. I was sore, tired, and hungry. I wanted food, but didn't want to cook anything. Heck, I was too tired to even toast an English Muffin. Wearily I glanced at my holey red underwire bra and decided I was too tired to put it on. The shoulder straps dig my shoulders and the wire digs into the fleshy part of my back. I am no glutton for punishment, so I figured that the man in the drive thru window of McDonald's didn't care much about how high my boobs were that morning. Instead I reached for my tattered purple sports bra, the bra that keeps my breasts off of my knees, but thankfully requires minimum effort to wear. Throwing my ancient navy blue hoodie on, I gathered some energy, and went to the car.

Once in the car I realized that it would have taken just as much effort to grab a pop tart. Oh well, I was already in the car - there was no going back. Besides, McDonald's was sounding better by the moment. Wrestling the seat belt around my fat rolls, I started up the car and off I went.

Yum.

Reaching McDonald's in that miraculous time between breakfast and lunch, I saw that there was no line. Glad that there was nothing keeping this fat girl from her food I ordered 2 ham, egg and cheese bagel sandwiches, 1 hash brown, and 1 large Mocha Frappe. Yum. Oh yeah, I got some sausage egg Mcmuffins for the hubby while I was at it. Too make me feel less guilty I grabbed him a Mocha Frappe too. I'm so thoughtful it's scary.

Once at home, I woke up the Man, and left him his food. I went downstairs, plopped onto my side of the couch, and ate one bagel sandwich as fast as I could. I didn't want my husband to find out exactly how much I had ordered, or how much I spent. It was good, but I barely tasted it. When he finally came downstairs I was working on my second sandwich, and he remained blissfully unaware of my expenditure. And my appetite.

It was somewhere in these morning moments that I realized something. I had not seen my bellybutton in about 19 years. If I get a mirror, and lay flat down on my bed - I just may catch a momentary glimpse. But I haven't seen it in forever, primarily because I'm just too lazy to get the mirror out and find it. I realized that I don't know what it's like to have a flat stomach, or what if feels like to shop in a regular store. I don't know what it is to sweat, much less work out. I'm 31 years old, and I'm on 4 different medications, because of weight related health problems. I can't play soccer with my 9 year old son, or walk around the mall with my friends. I realized that I'm scared, and I don't want to die of a heart attack at age 40.

So this is my wake up call, my last ditch effort to take back my life. This blog will hopefully serve at a place to vent, whine, brag and boast. I want to be the success story, the woman who loses 150 pounds (or more) through natural means. I can do this.

My plan? Exercise, I joined a gym with my best friend - who is willing to work out with me 3 times a week. Eat right, I don't know how - but that's what the Internet is for. I can research, and learn what I need to know. So, join me as I try to solve The Case Of The Missing Bellybutton - laugh, cry, snort, mock, whatever you want. Just don't offer me a cookie.