I’m having a hard time gathering enough stomach fat to hold it in my hands in front of me now.
There were really only two times in my life that I’ve been able to say that. The first is when I was a vegetarian (8 months, Thanksgiving turkey got me), and the second is when I had mono. So unless I’m starving myself or my body is starving itself, I’ve been fat.
Don’t get me wrong – I’m still totally fat. But yesterday I put on a pair of pants I haven’t worn in forever because I feel distinctly like I have two sausage link for legs when I’m in them. And when I sat in my office chair, the waist of the pants didn’t even cut into my stomach and make me feel like I was being stabbed to death by a rubber knife.
I’ve only been running for two weeks, so I’m not really sure how I can lose so much in so little time but that’s pretty darn exciting. I did three weeks of P90X and didn’t notice any change at all. This seems strange to me – as if I’ve entered some sort of dimensional fold that is quickly rewarding me for doing something I absolutely hate. How is it that working out for 1.5 hours 6 days a week got me nowhere fast and interval running for 30 minutes 3 days a week is beginning to make my body stop jiggling furiously while I brush my teeth?
That’s a serious fat girl problem, people. No joke.
Now, I don’t want to go all life lesson preacher on you because it’s only been two weeks and I seriously can’t even imagine graduating to the 3rd, 4th, and 5th weeks of this program, let alone ever actually running a 5K. That sounds like crazy talk to me. But right now, at this point in time, I’m succeeding. And I think I’m having an epiphany. My entire life, I assumed that there were people who liked to work out and people who didn’t like to work out and I was one of the latter which is why it never stuck. And while I’m sure there may be people in this world who like to work out, I think it’s only a very small percentage of humans. I don’t think they’re doing it because they like it. I think they’re doing it because they like it more than the alternative. It feels better to wreck yourself for an hour or less than spend an entire day feeling like a fat turd.
I think I cracked the code. Listen: I don’t like running. I’ve been very honest about the fact that I’m doing this as an experiment on how far I can take this whole “no excuses” psychology by doing something I absolutely hate. But what I do like is finally shaking that feeling that “I should really try to get healthy”. I’m not walking around with this huge sack of shoulds on my shoulders and it’s awesome. If I hate myself and what I’m doing for 30 minutes straight, I can spend the other 23.5 hours in the day not thinking about how out of shape I am, how bad my skin looks, or how I should make more of an effort.
Is this obvious? I don’t feel like it’s obvious. I feel like things are presented to us in terms of people who enjoy working out and people who enjoy sitting on their pillowy bottoms, eating comfort food, and watching television. You figure out which one you are, and you stay there. Or you spend all your time trying to jump from one bowl to the other.
Listen: it’s a myth. No one likes exercising. They just like it more than not exercising.
Now: let’s hope that stays crystal clear when I’m halfway through Couch to 5K and I want to kill myself. ♣