I was just sitting downstairs in the recliner reading when I got an inbox alert from a fellow blogger. She was basically wondering why my slack-@$$ hadn't blogged since July 30. That prompted me to come upstairs and fill you in on the past 5 weeks, the Readers-Digest version.
When I started this particular blog at the beginning of summer, I had intended to share every so often the misadventures of me losing weight before I went back to school. It's obvi (especially if you witnessed my mini-meltdown last weekend in a dressing room at the mall because I couldn't get a pair of pants zipped up) that I haven't lost that much weight. 6 pounds to be exact! Here are the reasons why things haven't gone according to plan this past summer:
1. I had about 2 good weeks of really "working out". The 3rd week, I found out I was pregnant. Hence, I had to cut out all the "strenuous" workouts that my body wasn't used to handling.
2. 4th week: found out I was miscarriaging...is that a word? So I was on strict bedrest for a week.
3. 5th week: Last beach trip of the summer. And let's be honest, if you work out or diet during vaca, you're an idiot. Probably a skinny idiot, but still an idiot.
4. 6th week: **The week I had originally planned on going back into gym/bird-eating/gym mode**
Start of my new job (well, technically same job, new place) and I fell off a chair I was standing on in my classroom and fractured my elbow, busted my shin on...something, hit the bone above my eye when I head-butted the floor, and briefly died of embarrassment. This particular jewel of a story prompted the title of this post. If you haven't, you must You-Tube 'David After Dentist'. After my post-olympic high dive from. a. chair., I was in the ER, highly drugged, and remember thinking, "Really, Kristin? Is this real life? Are you really that desperate to get out of gymming it up that you subconsciously fall off things to hinder your workout?" When I was once again off pain meds, I realized and accepted that I wasn't purposely trying to keep myself out of exercising, but that God just doesn't want me to be thin! This is the only logical explanation I can come up with!
However, (against God's obvious wishes), I have a meeting on Monday with a lady that I've heard some pretty fabulous things about. She runs a weight-loss "bootcamp" in town and is super motivated about helping chubby people like me scrape off these extra 20 (or 30 or 40) pounds that seems to have attached themselves to my body from out of nowhere...
Basically, you get up at 5:00 in the morning, meet the other chubby people like you, and workout insanely for an hour. Then go to work. Then meet at night and workout insanely for an hour. Then do it all over again the next day. Or something like that. I've learned that I can't do the gym by myself. I can go to my Gym BFF's classes because she motivates me, but I find that if it's up to me, I'd rather veg out instead of physically getting in my car and driving the 1.5 minute drive to the gym everyday. Unless it's to drive somewhere to go out to eat, because that seems to be working out well for me the past few weeks. Besides, my fellow teacher-friends out there know this, when you walk in the door at night, you are DONE. With a capital D. I need somebody to get in my face and make me responsible for busting my tail. Hold me accountable for getting the weight off, not making up every excuse not to.
So! I promise to get back to you one night this week to fill you in on the deets with bootcamp. Just pray that I can make it til Monday without a random pregnancy, random miscarriage, or falling off any random object and hindering any and all exercise.
When I started this particular blog at the beginning of summer, I had intended to share every so often the misadventures of me losing weight before I went back to school. It's obvi (especially if you witnessed my mini-meltdown last weekend in a dressing room at the mall because I couldn't get a pair of pants zipped up) that I haven't lost that much weight. 6 pounds to be exact! Here are the reasons why things haven't gone according to plan this past summer:
1. I had about 2 good weeks of really "working out". The 3rd week, I found out I was pregnant. Hence, I had to cut out all the "strenuous" workouts that my body wasn't used to handling.
2. 4th week: found out I was miscarriaging...is that a word? So I was on strict bedrest for a week.
3. 5th week: Last beach trip of the summer. And let's be honest, if you work out or diet during vaca, you're an idiot. Probably a skinny idiot, but still an idiot.
4. 6th week: **The week I had originally planned on going back into gym/bird-eating/gym mode**
Start of my new job (well, technically same job, new place) and I fell off a chair I was standing on in my classroom and fractured my elbow, busted my shin on...something, hit the bone above my eye when I head-butted the floor, and briefly died of embarrassment. This particular jewel of a story prompted the title of this post. If you haven't, you must You-Tube 'David After Dentist'. After my post-olympic high dive from. a. chair., I was in the ER, highly drugged, and remember thinking, "Really, Kristin? Is this real life? Are you really that desperate to get out of gymming it up that you subconsciously fall off things to hinder your workout?" When I was once again off pain meds, I realized and accepted that I wasn't purposely trying to keep myself out of exercising, but that God just doesn't want me to be thin! This is the only logical explanation I can come up with!
However, (against God's obvious wishes), I have a meeting on Monday with a lady that I've heard some pretty fabulous things about. She runs a weight-loss "bootcamp" in town and is super motivated about helping chubby people like me scrape off these extra 20 (or 30 or 40) pounds that seems to have attached themselves to my body from out of nowhere...
Basically, you get up at 5:00 in the morning, meet the other chubby people like you, and workout insanely for an hour. Then go to work. Then meet at night and workout insanely for an hour. Then do it all over again the next day. Or something like that. I've learned that I can't do the gym by myself. I can go to my Gym BFF's classes because she motivates me, but I find that if it's up to me, I'd rather veg out instead of physically getting in my car and driving the 1.5 minute drive to the gym everyday. Unless it's to drive somewhere to go out to eat, because that seems to be working out well for me the past few weeks. Besides, my fellow teacher-friends out there know this, when you walk in the door at night, you are DONE. With a capital D. I need somebody to get in my face and make me responsible for busting my tail. Hold me accountable for getting the weight off, not making up every excuse not to.
So! I promise to get back to you one night this week to fill you in on the deets with bootcamp. Just pray that I can make it til Monday without a random pregnancy, random miscarriage, or falling off any random object and hindering any and all exercise.
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