After I canceled the membership, I tried to be semi-diligent in my efforts to walk/jog around the block a couple of times a week and maybe bust out the 30 day Shred every now and then. And then I'd eat an entire row of Oreos. And probably some Cheetos, because I love Cheetos more than life itself. And then I'd eat half of an apple to make myself feel better about the Oreo and Cheeto binge. In short, I was a lazy turd who always had Cheeto dust under my fingernails and on my shirt and wondering why I wasn't losing baby pounds. I was walking one mile a week, after all.
I'm kind of exaggerating a little bit. Kind of. I wasn't always eating Oreos and Cheetos but my lifestyle wasn't exactly worthy of an Oscar. So I took the plunge when we moved back to Oxford and joined a gym owned by the hospital in town. I feel like I have just discovered Oxford's best kept secret. If you've ever seen Dodgeball, you can get a good visual image of this place because it is absolutely identical to Average Joe's. I think 70% of its members are 70 years or older and you don't see anybody drawing attention to themselves, which is polar opposite from the hyped up steroid looking turds who show entirely too much skin at the other gym. From my observation, everybody knows everybody, is extraordinarily friendly, and the fact that it has a nursery just makes me want to cry. A good cry.
Today I took one of the aerobic classes they offered called 'Strong and Tone' and walked in overly confident that I would be able to keep up. There were close to 20 people in the class ranging in age from 20 to 80 years old, but the majority definitely had gray hair. And I'm not dogging gray hair, my husband sports quite a few of them and I find it quite dashing. But I seriously underestimated the toughness and severity of this class. I did fine for the first three minutes, and then I started sweating and cursing myself for eating so many dadgum Oreos in my life. Everybody in the class, including all of the the gray hairs, was so graceful and making it look so easy while I was hunched over dry heaving and turning pale. I managed to keep up the pace for most of the class, but when he announced we only had ten more minutes and it was time to start having fun (said in a very sarcastic tone), I almost died. I strategically placed myself right by the door but told myself I would not quit and was going to finish strong. Well, I didn't. We were doing lunges and I lunged myself straight to the bathroom where I blacked out and broke out in a cold sweat. When I thought I could stand up, I walked out into the main room of the gym where all of the equipment is and passed out all over again. Embarrassing? Yes. It was. But not nearly as embarrassing as all of the elderlies walking by without an ounce of sweat on them and patting me on the shoulder as they assured me I would be okay if I just hang in there. So I guess I got a big bite of humble pie today and that class did nothing but motivate the heck out of me to at least be able to keep up with the retirees.
I've never been one to have enough self discipline to go on a full fledged diet, but I have resolved to nix all chocolate/candy from my life and I am on day number nine. I had withdrawals for the first eight days but it is getting easier. I haven't cheated one time and I didn't even have birthday cake yesterday, but I did have a shot of Sake at my favorite sushi restaurant so life was good. The chocolate fast won't be permanent, just long enough to help me reach my goal of getting through one 50 minute aerobics class. So here's to my first real attempt at getting somewhat healthy again post baby. Seven months later. I tell Clark all the time that its his fault, but I'll quit the guilt trip him once I think he can actually understand me.