I’m shrinking.
My body is shrinking and I couldn’t be HAPPIER!!
Well, except for the boobage shrinkage – I’m not particularly happy about that part.
A few nights ago, I woke up at 2:50 in the morning, my skin on fire and just feeling uncomfortable. I had cashed in some of my credits at the tanning salon eight hours earlier and “upgraded” to a level 2 bed. I hated that bed. It closed COMPLETELY, which left me gasping for air, and the fans, well, they sucked, so I sweated, a lot. (Which is nothing new, I sweat all the time. But somehow, sweating in a tanning booth just FEELS gross, you know?) Even though the experience was claustrophobic, I have to admit, that sucker tanned the crap out of my skin and I won’t be using it very often because I have no desire to look like a walking leather bag when I get older. (And just so you know, I rarely tan. This is like the first summer I’ve tanned in years and will likely be the last time I tan in years. I just go through spurts when I WANT to. Thankfully, they are few and far between, so please, no lectures).
But I digress.
I alternated between hot and cold all night. I had the fan on me (which is the only way I can sleep in the summer time because otherwise the air feels so HEAVY and I can’t stand feeling like there’s a Mack truck on my chest) so I would cover up from the fan, but then would kick off the covers because I got too hot. Off, on, off, on until I finally gave up and got up.
I went into the bathroom and being awake and aware of my skin, I lifted my shirt to see how dark my belly was.
Dark. But what caught my attention was my boobs. I blinked. Then I blinked some more. Had they shrunk? They looked smaller … somehow. I turned this way and that way and examined them from all angles.
They were most definitely smaller. I was somewhat alarmed. For you see, I never really HAD boobs until I had children. Before children (BC), I was pretty flat chested. In fact, I was pretty much a walking stick – no chest and no hips. Then I had kids and WHAM, I suddenly had boobs! Happy! But I also suddenly had hips, Not so happy!
But it was a trade-off, see. I could live with that trade-off because the boobs I’d always wanted, and always dreamed of having in high school, were finally MINE! All mine (well, I had to share them with the husband, but you know what I mean).
So when I noticed they had shrunk, I was quite bummed out.
And then I noticed my arms. What the … was that … could that be …? DEFINITION I was seeing in my flabby grandma arms?! Holy cow! Where did those shoulders come from? And I was definitely seeing some muscle where there was no muscle before.
And where did my second belly roll go? Now, when I bent over, I had one roll where I used to have two.
I’m telling you, I stood in front of that mirror a full fifteen minutes admiring this strange, defined, SHRINKING body. I guess I thought that if I didn’t get an eye full at that moment, I would likely wake up from the dream I was obviously having and I would be back to normal – large (and when I say large, I mean a healthy size C) boobs, obese arms and the Michelin man waist.
I gave my shrinking body one last, lingering look and went back to bed.
Ah well, a girl can dream, right?
Only, when I woke up the next morning, I was greeted with the same small-ish body.
*blinkblink* Had all of my working out FINALLY paid off?
For those new to this blog (welcome!), I’ve sort of been on a working out spree. I’m a big walker, in fact, I LOVE to walk on my treadmill and watch DVD’s – kill two birds with one stone, right? I’m all about multi-tasking. In addition, the husband and I stumbled onto an infomercial a few months back for Turbo Jam. Usually, we roll our eyes at each other and change the channel, but something about this program caught my attention …
It looked fun. I have always loved dance-y, athletic-types of workouts and all of the punching and kicking caught my attention. So, we ordered it … and have TOTALLY gotten our money’s worth.
Now before ya’ll think I’m some sort of health freak, let me set the record straight. I like to eat. Specifically sugary, fattening donuts and chocolate. In fact, it’s pretty safe to say I’m addicted to this stuff. I’d be the size of a house if I wasn’t constantly making deals with myself: All right, Karen. You had a glass of A&W Root Beer this afternoon, which is like 20 teaspoons of sugar. Since you chose to have this glass of soda, you may not have any chocolate for the rest of the day. Or … I’ll eat something pretty healthy, like salmon for lunch, and then reward myself later (because I’m really not a big fish eater but WOW, the protein is an awesome pick-me-upper), with a 3-Musketeer bar (because if I’m going to eat chocolate, why not pick the kind that has less fat, right?)
In addition, if I binge myself on junk food (which happens), then I MAKE myself work out extra hard to work off the calories – it’s a constant give and take with me.
As a result of these deal breakers, it appears that I’m constantly working out. Well, okay, I am constantly working out. But now I’ve become addicted to it – more on that later.
But what REALLY motivated me to start working out again was this one photo.
(I’m the fat chick in black on the left-hand side).
One photo where I look like a beached whale with chipmunk cheeks – attractive, no? It was a picture we had taken last Thanksgiving at our house with my husband’s family. I like my husband’s family, really. But they drive me crazy to be around because they are all beautiful, THIN people. And then, there’s me. Whale woman.
*sigh*
My sister-in-law posted this picture on Facebook and the family has really had a great time making fun of themselves – especially me. Because really, if you can’t laugh at yourself, what’s left? Tears? I don’t DO the feel sorry for myself bit. I just don’t. I’m a proactive sort of person.
But seeing this picture again disgusted me, not just because of how I looked but because at the time, before I saw how this picture turned out, I thought I had looked fine. In fact, I had felt pretty good about myself. But then I saw this picture and my self-confidence flew out the window like someone’s still-smoking cigarette. WHOOSH. Perception was burned to a crisp.
(My husband, trying to make me feel better, said, “But honey, that photo was taken with a wide-angle lens.” It doesn’t matter, I’m still whale woman – hear my whale cries of anguish).
I think I have the reverse of anorexia nervosa – where I think I look great but then I see a picture of myself and it’s like, WHAT THE HELL?! It’s so depressing.
So, I’ve been working out extra hard, that photo always in the back of my mind to motivate me to continue even when I feel like my arms are going to fall off or my lungs are about to explode.
And apparently, all of this sweating it starting to pay off. The husband commented the other night that I was indeed building definition in my arms. And that I was definitely skinnier overall. And yes, he admitted, after much coercing from me, that my boobs were indeed smaller.
*sigh* A “small” price to pay to look better, I guess. (Get it? Small? HAHA).
I had the presence of mind to measure myself when I started using Turbo Jam – I did not, however, have the presence of mind to put the DATE on these measurements (idiot) so I’m guesstimating here, but it’s been at least two, possibly three months, since we bought the program. Here are the results:
Chest: Lost 2.5 inches (see! told you!)
Arms: Lost 1 inch
Waist: Lost 3.25 inches (!)
Hips: Lost 2 inches
Thighs: Lost 1 inch (which is disappointing)
Weight: I don’t weigh myself. I keep track of inches because to me, that’s what is more important.
Now, because of these results, I’m working out harder. I’m motivated to continue because dog-gone it, it’s making a difference!
Now hopefully, when we take the next Thanksgiving picture, I won’t dread it but will be proud of how I look in it.
Of course, that’s what I thought LAST THANKSGIVING …
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monday morning meme
