Week Two Weigh In

Well, it’s Monday. Happy Monday! It’s also weigh in day. I was rather excited about this weeks’ weigh in because I have been a very good girl over the past week. I’ve even started journaling using My Fitness Pal. This is not something I’ve done in the past. The last time I lost a significant amount of weight I did it through exercise and eating in moderation. I did not track the number of calories I stuffed into my face in the run of a day. Now I am and according to the fitness pal I have consumed on average 100 calories less per day than I’m allowed. Also, I went to the gym FIVE freakin times this week, each time doing an HOUR of cardio. So excited to step on the scales, right?


Well, y’all can imagine my surprise when the scales indicated I had lost one pound. ONE FUCKING POUND. Don’t bother telling me “it’s a pound Dual Mom…it’s a loss, don’t be upset”. If you tell me that shit I’m liable to go ballistic on your ass. PEOPLE, five fucking hours of cardiac exercise I did last week. I’m not talking casual strolling on the treadmill here. I’m talking working out until the heart rate monitor on the machine is telling you to slow the fuck down because you’re about to stroke out and there’s no one handy that’s willing to do CPR on you. Do you know what I could have done besides working myself into a complete fucking lather in those five hours? I could have worked on my couch ass groove for christ sake. FUUUUUCCCCK.

So after standing there contemplating jumping all 170.5 pounds of me up and down on the scales until it was splattered into smithereens the way the fucking thing deserved, and after having my daughter come tearing into my bedroom to find out why her mother was cursing at the top of her lungs like a whore at a truck stop so early in the morning…… I decided to get dressed. Today I was wearing THE black pants. All women have a pair of THE black pants. You know the ones. The ones that look great on you even though you’re pmsing and have put five pounds on. You know the ones that you can wear with a weight fluctuation of up to 10 pounds. In actuality, it was these black pants that got me on this health kick. I had them on one day last month and by the end of the day I felt as though someone was slicing me in two. I almost had to go to the ER to have the damn things surgically removed from my waist at the end of the day, they were cutting into me THAT badly. The one pair of pants that I could wear with any type of weight fluctuation no longer fit me.

This morning I put them on and they fit. Yeah, they are still snug, but I don’t feel as though someone’s taking a hacksaw to my midsection. So something’s happening ……… the scales just aren’t showing it. I’m actually ok with that.

And I cried on the elliptical trainer Saturday, at the gym, in front of a bunch of skinny bitches. See, I thought it would take months to get back into being able to exercise the way I used to. I thought between the weight gain and the fact that I haven’t exercised in almost 3 years, my body would completely revolt against abruptly going from working on my ass groove to actually working out. But it hasn’t. Saturday I did a half hour on the treadmill, alternating between running (not fast) and walking with a 6% incline (which just kills me btw). Then I hopped on the elliptical (which is easier on the knees). I set it for 30 minutes, alternating between 0% and 25% resistance. Up until Saturday, I’ve had to cry uncle and bring the resistance down to 15% halfway through the 30 minutes. I just couldn’t finish the 30 minutes at the 25%. My heart rate would go into “you’re going to stroke” zone and my legs felt like they were just going to spontaneously disconnect from my body if I took one more step. On Saturday, I got through the entire workout without having to lower the resistance and my heart rate stayed within the cardio zone. I was so incredibly happy when the machine started doing the 5 second countdown thing all I could do was hang my head as the tears rolled down my face. I did it, I pushed my body and it responded, and anyone that has ever pushed themselves physically knows what an incredible feeling it is to have your body respond with “yeah…we can do this” rather than “fuck you floppy gut, your ass is too big to work this hard”. I’m sure skinny bitches were wondering why the crazy lady was smiling so serenely as she wiped down the machine. Let ‘em wonder.

So bring it on folks, I can’t wait to read how your week went.