So many people signed up for the challenge at the gym that they are doing it in different "flights." I signed up for the first flight forgetting that we had to go out of town last weekend for that wrestling tournament. So, I am in the second flight.
Tomorrow I have to report for my before photos, measurements and body fat analysis. Today I went shopping for my outfit. They prefer you were a bikini. Ummm. NO. Not. Gonna. Happen. I did try on a bikini top with swim shorts. The sight of myself in the mirror made me break out into a nauseous sweat. I ended up buying a workout top that is similar to a bikini top and cute capri workout pants to match.
I don't know if I can do it. I had to sign a release giving them the rights to the pictures when I signed up. I know they are going to say I should at least wear shorts because of what I've read already but... I'm 43 years old, had three children and have been a super deluxe fat ass for too long! I am also one of the whitest people to ever have walked the earth. You can look at two people the same size and the person that is the whitest looks the worst. I know. I check people out all the time.
I looked through the before and afters of other people from previous challenges and in their before pictures you can tell they are pooching out their stomachs, they aren't smiling, their hair is pulled back, etc. In the after pictures they look like they've been tanning, they have big smiles, their hair is down and fixed nice. Oh my gosh... this might kill me.
There's money for the winners. I'm trying to kill a couple birds with one stone here. I can't get a job so this would be a way for me to possibly bring in a little money. I need to lose weight and get in shape. Even if I don't win... I still win because I will be that much closer to my goal.
I am so sore from Tuesday that I didn't go to the gym yesterday and I might not later today. I can't even sit down without having to fall the last several inches. I saw the trainer for 30 minutes and he had me do weights. I then killed half an hour on the incline treadmill waiting for a step class to start. The last step class I took was back in 1995 and I fell of my box.
When I was six years old I overheard my Mom talking to my Dad about how they needed to get me into ballet because I was so clumsy. I came home not long after to find the classic pink tights and black leotard laid across my bed. I remember well that first class. I didn't know if the tights went under or over the leotard and I didn't want to ask my mom. I went with over, put my clothes on and hopped in the car. I was mortified when I realized my mistake and I still remember what that bathroom looked like and how cold it was when I went to switch things around.
I was clumsy. My parents had me in dance for a number of years. It seemed to me that I was slow picking things up but that I did get it eventually. I did enjoy the recitals. In high school I took jazz. My freshman year I tried out for the drill team but they held the try outs in the gym and anyone could come watch. I did terrible because a boy that lived on my street that I had a secret crush on walked in right as we were starting. He was a senior and I never even talked to him once. I got a call back to try out again but I was so traumatized that I was no longer interested.
Well, I don't think I have to tell you that I totally sucked at that class. I did not fall of the box this time. That may have something to do with the fact that when things got complicated I just marched on the floor. In fact, I reminded myself of our son when he first started playing soccer. All the other kids would be running around after the ball and he'd be running in circles somewhere else on the field. In an effort to get him to pay attention we told him we would buy him a sword if he made a goal. I was one of those Moms that initially did not allow any sort of "violent" toys. Thing is... boys make those toys on their own... a stick... a bent over barbie doll... their fingers. Anyway, he was five and wanted a "real" sword really bad. He made his goal... against his own team and turned around with his arms in the air while shouting, "Yes! I get a sword! I get a sword!"
The instructor encouraged me to come back and told me that it takes time. I understand that and I do think I'll go back... when, and if, I can ever move again. My poor parents wasted their money on all those dance lessons. I am so uncoordinated! What is funny is my kids think I can dance. They are always trying to figure out my moves... which are pretty sweet but... they are crazy and it is stuff I just pull out. Taking directions and following someone else is a whole nother ball game at which I FAIL.
Would you believe I went back to the gym later that night with Mr. Macchiato? I did. I did an hour on the elliptical a.k.a. my comfort zone. He was doing cardio and weights so I had to kill another 45 minutes. I tried the rowing machine and then I went and rode a bike in the cinema room. I was so tired!
I had to psych myself up just to roll over in bed last night. I definitely need to be more careful about how much I do. Maybe I'll try some aerobic housecleaning tonight instead...