As usual I am late with the Weigh-In Post Mortem. I lost 1.2 kilos (2.6 lb). Hurrah! I really did have a good week.
Five times to the gym and all. Plus I ate fish! Three times, no less! I am really getting interested in nutrition lately. But not too interested. I still had my weekly hot fudge sundae from McDonalds. You have to have some vices.
Anyway, now I've hit 75 pounds lost, so I am now eligible to submit to Fred's Transformation Stories. But I dunno, I take photos of myself all the time, and I peer and I peer at them, and sometimes I think, woohoo! There's a difference! Then the next day I'll think there's no difference at all. Right now I am firmly in the "no difference at all" frame of mind.
Much of that was sparked by my Fit Ball class last night. When I had my fitness re-assessment on Monday, Fitness Chick Cathy suggested I try the class coz it gives you a good overall workout but doesn't have the brutal impact of your traditional aerobics. So I said cool.
The class members weren't all hard-core leotarded freaks like I see going in for Body Pump or Step classes, but they were all way smaller than me. I decided to ignore that and concentrate on trying to pretend I was coordinated and follow the instructor. It was Fitness Chick Cathy herself, and she gave me a little wave and smile.
Are you all familiar with fit balls? Swiss balls? They're huge rubber balls that you sit on and you can do all sorts of exercises on them and they're very good, especially for beginners. You can use them to do crunches and pushups and squats bazillions of other things, and the ball supports you so it's good for the chronic lard ass like myself.
First thing we did was kinda sit on the balls. "Okay, now we're going to bounce," she says.
Bounce? Holy crap. Yes she did mean bounce. Up and down and up and down. I could feel my boobs and other wobbly things flying all over the place. Then we kicked our legs out this way and that way and waved our hands around in the air and tossed the ball around and lunged and bounced around some more. My sister, who's slim and coordinated, was just as crap as I was. I'd finally get some sort of rhythm going when either a) I realised everyone had moved on to the next move or b) I looked over my sister, who was flailing her arms like a deranged puppet and gasping from trying not to laugh, which of course would make me laugh. We spent the whole hour cackling away. Luckily there were two other beginners who had just as much trouble as us, so we felt better.
I really did not expect the class to be so damn difficult. I didn't know there were so many things you could do with a great big ball. I discoverd muscles that I never knew existed before. I rediscovered just how unfit and uncoordinated I was.
This was all made worse by the fact I'd forgotten my water bottle. It was a long hour. Plus I have the flu at the moment, so all the bouncing was making my head spin. I had to keep stopping and fumbling for the ol' kleenex.
It was a typical example of my Jeckl/Hyde extremes. One minute I am laughing and having a grand old time, but then we'd so a move and I was really crap at it, or I began to get a bit tired and sore, and my posture on the ball got really crap. The key to fitball is to make sure you hold your spine up, you know, use your abs and be nice and straight. My sister is a genius at that thanks to her Pilates classes, but as the class wore on I just seemed to slump down along with my spirits. I looked around at all the other chicks, even the taller and larger ones seemed to nice and toned and strong, and here I was, a big blob on a ball. Since my posture was dying it seemed like there was no distinction between my boobs and hips, just one big porky bit, bouncing back at me from the wall of mirrors.
Even as I am stomping along doing all the moves my brain is ticking away, the realisation dawning on me… You still weigh 125 kilograms. You are twice the weight of most of these chicks. You can't even do half of these moves properly. Your trackpants are a size 24. You're a long long long way from being even considered plain 'overweight'. You're still really 'damn huge'. You still have a long long long way to go.
This mood has lingered long after the class. I am trying to ignore it but I just feel so blah. I know it's pointless but I keep thinking, why did you let yourself get so big? I get so caught up in my weekly losses that I sometimes forget how far I still have to go, I forget that I am still stuck in this huge lump of a body, because in my mind I'm already slim. I'm so impatient. I'm so fed up with looking like this. I wish my body could catch up with my mind.
I am always like this after I go to a class at the gym. I went to Body Balance last October and I sobbed for hours afterwards because I was so big I couldn't keep up at all. And I don't even compare myself to the little skinny preying mantis chicks. I'm comparing myself to the ordinary average normal kind of woman, and I'm eons away from even that. And then there's those mirrors, flashing your image there in booming stereo, nowhere for you to hide, nothing for you to look at but yourself and your flaws bathed in flourescent light.
How do you learn to like yourself? How do you stay positive? I really thought I had it down. But I keep faltering and the negativity creeps back in.
But I'll be fine. Despite my melancholy I have no desire to eat badly or to stop exercising. And I know the flu has sapped the life out of me right now. I'll go back to that class next week and I'll keep on going and I'll slowly get better at it. These days, I'm not the kind of girl who gives up.