In 3 1/2 weeks, I lost 15 pounds. It was awesome.
Then it stopped.
I kept with my diet of low carbs, no sugar and 1200 calories.
Okay I should be a little bit happy, I mean I didn't gain any weight.
But it was like all of the sudden my body went, "heeeeyyyyyyy, wait a minute here. I know what you're trying to do. Haha. Good Luck, fattie." Cuz my body can be mean like that.
It's really upsetting that I hit a plateau soooooo soon. I really thought I had at least another 10 pounds before that happened. My weekly weigh in became a daily weigh in because I went out and bought a scale so I didn't have to disrobe on the cargo scales at work anymore. I became a little bit of a hmmmmm, what's the word when you weigh yourself before and after you go pee, before and after you shower, with and without your socks, just to see how much of a difference it really makes? Fanatical? Is that the right word? Crazy? Ya, that sounds about right.
I began to feel really silly, because here I was blogging about how super easy it was to modify my diet and lose weight, without any gimmicks or fad diets and then all of the sudden I hit a wall and nothing was happening. I was still in my fat clothes, still dreaming about chocolate, and still drinking coffee without sugar (blech).
We all know what this means, right? This means I'm going to have to start (insert super scary music track here, then pause for effect) working out.
I feel defeated already.
In High School, I went to a gym with a girlfriend who had a free pass. It was a Spa lady, I felt very grown up. It was after school, about 2:00pm and I had not eaten anything yet. I also hadn't really expected to *work out*, thinking because it was my first time, a quick tour of the facility and the locker room amenities was really about all the excitement I could handle. Of course, I was wrong. A woman, I called her Goliath, with thighs the size twice of mine, took me through all the machines, showed me how they worked and also wrote down how many (or few) reps I could do of each.
I was doing fairly well for myself when we went to this contraption that you stand under and push up with your shoulders. I was half way up when all of the sudden I heard this buzzing in my ears, my vision went dark and I woke up with Goliath standing over me asking if I was alright. It was the one and only time I have ever passed out in my entire life. It was horrible. Embarrassing. I've never been to a gym since.
Remember that line that Tom Hanks' character says to Rosie O'Donnell and Madonna? "Are you crying? There's no crying in Baseball!!" Oh ya, Tom Hanks? Let me tell you there most definitely was always crying when I was playing Baseball. If it wasn't from the sheer frustration of not being able to hit the damn ball with the damn bat, it was from the pain of being hit by the ball. There was also crying in Football, when in grade 9 I tripped over NOTHING and tore all the tendons in my ankle. There was crying in Gymnastics from humiliation when I didn't have the upper body strength to lift myself onto the uneven bars. Running seems like a great idea, except my bladder doesn't have the strength it used to have before I birthed a 10 1/2 pound baby. I remember failing swimming after they asked me to jump up and down in the water. Seriously? Is that really a good indication of whether I can swim or not? I can't even jump right? C'mon.
Do I really have to go on? Working out, sports, walking, never seem to work out for me the way the work out for others. If I could lose weight by reading, I'd be super svelte right now, let me tell you. If I could write myself fit, I'd possess the body of Jennifer Lopez. Those are my strengths. Working out...ya, not so much.
But evidently, it is a necessary evil because reading and writing and watching T.V. does not seem to be doing anything for my figure. I've been looking for a few *lazy* options, but the best I've come up with is running up and down the stairs with laundry...
I've tossed around the idea of swimming because I think that will be the least shock to my body, but it does take a whole lot more prep time (ooooh, does shaving my bikini line count as exercise??). Riding a bike is out of the question until they make a bicycle seat that is as comfortable (and as large) as a Lazy Boy. This poor arse is big and it just might swallow up the *standard issue* seats. Don't even get me started on my visit to the *spinning class* which is nowhere near as fun as it sounds. Spinning, let's go spinning. It sounds fun. But that is where the fun stops. Unless bruises on your ass are considered to be fun. Walking just seems so lazy...
Hmmmmmm, maybe we have a winner. Low impact, no prep, cute running shoes...
Any ideas, folks??