Fuck the scale.
The fun thing about having to do part of my healthy-lifestyle journey over again and regain all the ground I lost is that there's a lot of stuff I don't have to re-do. This time through, I'm checking in with the scale occasionally, but for the most part I could give a damn.
I am not going to get obsessed this time. I am not going to beat myself up when I re-discover that 130 lbs. is pretty much the limit without making myself sick. I am not going to count calories. I am, however, going try my best to eat healthy at least 80% of the time, and I am gonna kick the YRG workout's ass if it kills me. No way that thing is beating me. No way.
My Hub had his "free day" meal on Saturday, and after consuming a giant burrito and several beers and some nachos and cookies, he woke up Sunday morning feeling lousy. He also woke up with his weight right back where he started a few weeks ago, and sought reassurance all day that he had not, in fact, screwed everything up in one day. I reminded him that he was the one who enjoys weighing himself pre- and post- bathroom time, and so he should know better than anyone that waste has a direct effect on weight. Not to mention he took in more sodium in one night than he has for the past two weeks, so there's a bit of a water retention thing going on, too. This, too, shall pass-- literally.
Back to the YRG workout thing, though. I am becoming infatuated with it. (Girls, if you want to see if you can get your guy to work out with you, get him to try this. I am so very serious.) It focuses on all the weak spots and inflexible spots that develop as a result of spending all day at a desk, and it really gets the ol' heart rate up while simultaneously working on flexibility and strength. The only down side is that it really kicks my ass. I switched up to the 40-minute workout, rather than the 20-minute one, on both Saturday and Sunday, and it completely whipped me. My Hub fell asleep on his mat during corpse pose ("deadman") at the end of the workout on Sunday, and I fell asleep on the couch shortly thereafter.
Bonus: thus far, no injuries. My trick ankle had a twinge on Saturday, but that's about all. Usually by this point I'll have done something to my ankle, and the opposite knee, with an optional knot over one shoulderblade and kink in the back. Hooray! I've still been using the exercise bike on non-yoga days, so altogether I've got a whole low-impact thing going on.
I am putting an image in my mind of my goal that isn't willowy at all. I'm short and when I'm in shape the shape I'm in is like what would happen if you take a tall fitness model, add several more body fat percentage points, and compress lengthwise. All body parts in proportion to each other, just thicker than I tend to think is attractive. I hereby vow to find this attractive. If I get in shape and still hate what I see, that does nobody any good, particularly my darling husband who thinks I look awesome in whatever form I assume, and particularly me, because it'll just get me all discouraged. Hell with it. I am built like a woman who's meant to head-butt her way through walls, regardless of body-fat percentage, and I am going to rock that look and love it, by God. This is going to be my ideal; what good is it to want to look like some other chick? This is MY body and it RULES, thank you, and all other bodies can just go do their things 'cause this is MINE.
I am not going to get obsessed this time. I am not going to beat myself up when I re-discover that 130 lbs. is pretty much the limit without making myself sick. I am not going to count calories. I am, however, going try my best to eat healthy at least 80% of the time, and I am gonna kick the YRG workout's ass if it kills me. No way that thing is beating me. No way.
My Hub had his "free day" meal on Saturday, and after consuming a giant burrito and several beers and some nachos and cookies, he woke up Sunday morning feeling lousy. He also woke up with his weight right back where he started a few weeks ago, and sought reassurance all day that he had not, in fact, screwed everything up in one day. I reminded him that he was the one who enjoys weighing himself pre- and post- bathroom time, and so he should know better than anyone that waste has a direct effect on weight. Not to mention he took in more sodium in one night than he has for the past two weeks, so there's a bit of a water retention thing going on, too. This, too, shall pass-- literally.
Back to the YRG workout thing, though. I am becoming infatuated with it. (Girls, if you want to see if you can get your guy to work out with you, get him to try this. I am so very serious.) It focuses on all the weak spots and inflexible spots that develop as a result of spending all day at a desk, and it really gets the ol' heart rate up while simultaneously working on flexibility and strength. The only down side is that it really kicks my ass. I switched up to the 40-minute workout, rather than the 20-minute one, on both Saturday and Sunday, and it completely whipped me. My Hub fell asleep on his mat during corpse pose ("deadman") at the end of the workout on Sunday, and I fell asleep on the couch shortly thereafter.
Bonus: thus far, no injuries. My trick ankle had a twinge on Saturday, but that's about all. Usually by this point I'll have done something to my ankle, and the opposite knee, with an optional knot over one shoulderblade and kink in the back. Hooray! I've still been using the exercise bike on non-yoga days, so altogether I've got a whole low-impact thing going on.
I am putting an image in my mind of my goal that isn't willowy at all. I'm short and when I'm in shape the shape I'm in is like what would happen if you take a tall fitness model, add several more body fat percentage points, and compress lengthwise. All body parts in proportion to each other, just thicker than I tend to think is attractive. I hereby vow to find this attractive. If I get in shape and still hate what I see, that does nobody any good, particularly my darling husband who thinks I look awesome in whatever form I assume, and particularly me, because it'll just get me all discouraged. Hell with it. I am built like a woman who's meant to head-butt her way through walls, regardless of body-fat percentage, and I am going to rock that look and love it, by God. This is going to be my ideal; what good is it to want to look like some other chick? This is MY body and it RULES, thank you, and all other bodies can just go do their things 'cause this is MINE.
posted by Meg at
2:38 PM
2 Comments:
Hey Meg
I am totally with you in this blog. I too have a body as you describe (and a partner who also thinks I look fabulous regardless). I also am am on the road to getting fit and in shape rather than thin and like you am going to love the way I look. It is a difficult journey though (as we both know) but I find the more I exercise the less I worry about food and the better I feel. I have never really eaten unhealthily, I just tend to eat a little too much (and I am rather fond of a glass of wine), but even too much healthy food, when you don't expend a corresponding amount of energy puts on the pounds. I think the key is moderation in food and lots of fun exercise. I have started swimming again which is great for fitness but not so great for skimpy little shoulders to hang skimpy little dresses on - mind you my shoulders do look strong enough to be a forward row rugby player!! But I look healthy and strong and this I am going to love. I have also started to learn to ride a horse which is surprisingly great exercise and a great amount of fun and very good for the butt.
So after all that I just wanted to say I completely understand where you are at, how you feel and where you want to go, so you are not alone. It is so great to have you back. I ish you all the best and it is so great that your Hub is joining in.
By
Anonymous, at 5:42 PM
I loved this post, and I am absolutely with you in loving my body even if it may not fit into standard image of what is considered beautiful. You rock :)
By
Anonymous, at 8:23 AM
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