First Responders
A couple days ago, Mr. BBM was talking to me in the kitchen when he said, "Your butt is small." I turned around and glared at him. "So, what? You're telling me my butt was big before?"
"No!" he yelled out, "I'm saying your butt is tight."
"Wait," I said, "so now you're calling me a tight-a$$!?!"
"No!" he said laughing. And then he made some comment about trying to give me a compliment. I've been working out and I've been extremely committed to it. I'm also a woman and am therefore skilled at turning would-be-compliments into insults.
I've been noticing some changes in my body too since I started working out with my trainer again (and started "Dance Dance Revolutionizing" at home with the Wii). It doesn't take long when you have someone seriously kicking your butt on a weekly basis. These initial changes always seem to be my "first responders." While it's awesome to see things changing and know that you're progressing, it can be frustrating when other areas lag behind.
Here's what happens with me. It doesn't take many workouts for my butt to respond. But what frustrates me is that the very upper part of my legs don't right away. In fact, I can't think of a time when I've ever really been satisfied with that little ring of stuff around my upper thighs. Back when I was in high school, I had toothpicks for legs. I liked my upper legs then. So the other day I told my trainer I wanted to concentrate on knocking those suckers down a notch. He looked surprised. Apparently he has a lot of girls come to him who want to bulk up their butt and upper legs. I am not one of them. I want nothing to do with "bulk."
The other first responders for me are my arms and shoulders. I swear that after just one workout, I start seeing changes. This is what happens when your arms are toothpicks. The other day, Mr. BBM grabbed my arm and said, "Woah, you've got muscles." Damn straight I do. The other day, during a brutal upper body workout, my trainer gave me that devious look he has when he's contemplating really killing me.
He walked me over to one of those power tower things and showed me what he wanted me to do. A former football player with plenty of bulk and years of muscle strength, he easily lifted himself up, tucked his legs underneath himself and started doing perfectly formed dips. He jumped down and I raised an eyebrow at him.
"For real? You think I can do that?"
"I'm gonna help you," he said.
So, I stepped up there and raised myself up, which was an accomplishment right there. As I tucked my legs up, I felt him grab my feet and lower legs. "Alright girl! Do it."
And I did. I'll be honest, as I approached 10, I was putting a whole lot more weight on him than I should have been. It was HARD. When I finished that set, we both laughed. My arms were shaking and I was sweating something fierce. We went onto my other two sets and came back to the dips. Instead of putting me back up there, my trainer said, "let's do them on the bench. We were both just surviving over there." I laughed. It had to be a funny sight. Me just trying to hold myself up and him eventually taking on more and more of my weight.
I started doing dips on the bench a couple weeks ago and tried with my legs straight out. It wasn't possible. So, I pulled them in closer and did them like that. After my ridiculously hard set yesterday, I pushed my legs out straighter and made it through two additional sets of dips.
I've identified a new goal: dips on the power tower by myself.
The good news is that my arms, shoulders and butt are responding well to all these workouts. The even better news is that I told my trainer that my upper legs and abs are frustrating me a bit and he's going to help me concentrate on those areas. Despite the fact that I'm noticing little lines of muscles on my abdomen, there's still extra stuff there that needs to go. And it's gonna go, because I have never been more motivated to succeed.
So far, my New Year's "goals" are working out just fine. How are yours going?
When you're finished here, stop over at The BBM Review for a chance to win $100 on the Jimmy Dean review.
Starting Off 2011 the Right Way
Like clockwork, New Year's Eve is usually a bad night for us. We don't usually have any plans and so I imagine this great night at home, ringing in the New Year with my husband. I create this whole fantastic night in my head that looks like a soap opera. We toast with champagne; my hair is teased high and I'm wearing some ridiculous dress and too much eyeliner. My husband looks dapper and whenever he makes eye contact with me, it's that sly "come hither" look that makes girls swoon. You know, kind of similar to how Vanilla Ice used to address the ladies. Like that. . .
Or not.
Instead, we usually listen to depressing music, courtesy of the IPod "Genius" which I swear is intent on making people need Prozac. We start off with Taio Cruz and the next thing you know, Mazzy Star is playing and you want to either fall immediately asleep or cry until you have nothing left but toilet paper to wipe your eyes with. Then, we get in a stupid argument and one of us storms off to bed to watch the ball drop solo. It's been the status quo for a couple years now, so much so that we actually joke about it.
This year started off differently.
First, we had many invitations to be elsewhere, which is kind of ironic because we ended up staying at home. We had four friends over (one set of friends was a blind date hook-up) and we spent the night eating, having some drinks and playing games. I knew I invited the right people when all of them were willing to get up and play "Dance Dance Revolution" for the Wii. "We" all had a blast and the girls even had a good time too. They raided their dress-up boxes and decorated our guests with feather boas and fun. It was definitely a good way to start off the New Year.
Another reason the year started off right is because I started my "resolutions" a couple weeks ago. Waiting until the New Year sets me up for failure. I put too much pressure on myself and I end up falling off the resolution wagon quickly. Plus, I don't like the word "resolution." This year, I'm making personal goals and "suggestions." Less pressure means less of that falling off the wagon business. So here they are:
1. A couple weeks ago, I started working out with my trainer. He has been motivating me and inspiring me to take my fitness more seriously. He's helped me with some great tools too. I've started using protein shakes instead of eating a bag of potato chips when the mid-afternoon hungries set in. They are giving me a lot more energy and they make me feel better about myself with each one I drink. I also bought a workout journal and that is also going to help me with goal setting and accomplishing. My trainer knows how to kick my butt; but he is also really good at inspiring me to keep it going.
Goal #1: Maintain a fitness routine, get toned, look hot, and own it. Oh yeah.
2. I made a decision a couple months ago that my volunteer responsibilities were no longer going to trump my family. I put that one into action and it has made a world of difference in my life. Sometimes taking a step back and away is the best way to go. I'm still doing what I need to do, but I'm no longer living and breathing my volunteer responsibilities. I've found that I care much less now about what people say about me and it's given an opportunity for other people to put up or shut up. I'm especially enjoying that part of it.
Goal #2: Keep everything in balance and remember that family comes first!
3. I started a new business in November and it's been going really well. I'm selling Miche bags and I'm having a lot of fun with it. I made a decision to invest a little more in my business and am going to become an inventory representative which basically means I'll be like a mini distributor. I have been busy coming up with marketing ideas and strategies and it's fun watching them actually work! I am concentrating on growing my business and am hoping to bank the cash I make so that we can finish our basement and go on some trips. (And yes, I'll ship anywhere!)
Goal #3: Build my business to help my family financially (i.e. Jamaica-here we come!)
These three goals are specific and manageable and I'm sure this is going to be a fantastic year for me. What are your goals and "personal suggestions" for the new year? What are you doing to make them happen?
For additional ideas on ways to make your new year productive, visit my "Better for You" review on The BBM Review.
T-Rex Arms and Sipping Wine Through Straws
Yesterday was a fantastic day for me. First, I reunited with my awesome personal trainer. I have never met anyone who is able to motivate me the way that he does. He's also really good at catching weights as my spaghetti arms drift them slowly and awkwardly towards my face while on that incline bench. Yesterday, he saved me thousands in dental bills.
My legs can kick any of your butts; but I admit I have neglected my arms severely. Severely.
Jamie took me through a work out yesterday that was ridiculous. I knew 10 minutes into it that I was going to be hurting today. Hurting doesn't even really begin to describe it. I woke up this morning and thought I was going to need assistance in getting my pajama top off to get in the shower. Then, when I had successfully completed that hurdle, I realized that washing my hair was going to be no small feat. I lathered up my hands and bent my head down as far as I could to eliminate the need to raise my arms above waist height. That was difficult. So, I attempted to wash my hair with the insides of my elbows because it just isn't possible for me to lift my arms and bend them today. Not gonna happen.
When I got out of the shower, I realized that holding the hair dryer was going to seriously suck. I just accepted that it was going to be a bad hair day and got on with it.
When I arrived on campus for my very last classes of the semester this morning, I had lots to write on the white board. Usually I use my go-go-gadget arms to write at the top of the board, but today I wrote at the very bottom. I could tell my students knew something was up so I explained to them that my arms, when bent, feel like they have opposing magnets in them. "Do you hear that?" I asked them. "Every time I bend my arms, my triceps scream "no!"
They laughed, and then got quiet when they heard my triceps actually scream, just like I said they were doing.
They cracked up even harder when I told them I was feeling kind of like a T-Rex as I swung my arms around while keeping my elbows low and tight into my body. When class was over, getting my coat on took a while and really hurt too. It was then that I realized I had collected about 45 full and huge portfolios and there was no way I was going to be able to make it to my car without pain. Thank you to that wonderful young man who just so happened to be coming into my classroom for the next class, who grabbed a stack of them and helped me to my car. Bless you, young man. There is a special place in heaven for people like you.
In addition to getting back on the training wagon again, I received a delightful email from BlogHer's syndication editor last night. Today, my post is live on BlogHer's front page. I have pitched my writing many times to various people and I have never been successful from a query. However, I am more than happy to allow posts I write to be "discovered" as this one and some others were a while back. It is really nice to actually get paid for writing something; and despite what many of you may think, it is really nice to have arms that are too sore to lift once again. I'm motivated and happy and it's a super nice feeling, even if I'm going to have to sip my celebratory wine through a straw because my arms are just too darn sore to lift anything, even wine.
Of Cowboys, Primates and Cheeseballs
You know that machine at the gym that works your inner thighs, Suzanne Somer style? You know, the one that you sit on and squeeze your thighs together while every man in the gym tries to ignore the fact that there is a girl on that machine, but they. just. can't. do. it. It's. just. too. temping. to. look. . . Well, I am fairly certain that it maimed me for life.
For some people, the soreness of a good workout kicks in within 24 hours; but I am a 48 hour girl. If I work out on Saturday, I will pay on Monday. Oh, how I am paying today.
Did you ever play with magnets as a kid? Did you ever try to push two together that just don't like each other? Remember how challenging it is to do that and how they just won't touch? That would be my thighs today. The inner thigh area of each leg is protesting so vehemently against the other that I swear those two haven't even high-fived all day long.
Thanks to this annoying, yet protective reaction of those very sore muscles, I appear to be walking as if I have been riding a horse for much of the day month. Look out John Wayne because this girl can walk cowboy like no other. Giddy-up y'all.
In addition to the thigh problem, every time I try to turn my body without turning my entire body, my abdominal muscles are grabbing onto my hip bones and screaming out loud as if they are in the evil grasps of a wicked tornado, threatening to fling them off into eternity forever. I'm also sort of walking like a primate.
A cowboy primate. Now that is hot.
I've also discovered something not so nice about working out. For the past few months, I've been working out hard, concentrating on strengthing my legs and getting back into nai-hanchi stance shape again. I've done hundreds of squats and lunges. I've worked hard on calf raises, leg lifts, and the leg press. I've logged hundreds of miles on the stationary bike, and I've done hamstring curls until my whole body shakes from the effort they take.
Despite all of this working out, I've been "rewarded" with jeans that are entirely too snug. My legs and butt are bigger than they were months ago; and they are not at all liking the confinement inside my jeans. They are big and hungry and they would much rather wear pajama pants or sweatpants. I am probably going to have to go buy a bigger size pretty soon as these muscular buns and thighs threaten to take out my whole pant wardrobe.I can't help thinking that it would have probably been a whole lot more fun to eat my way through pounds of cheeseballs in order to move up a size, instead of working out so diligently. Somehow, it just doesn't seem fair.
Fending Off The Know-It-All
Filed under: Mental Strain for Mama, Things that get my gi all in a bunch, Work it out
I considered live blogging the Flyers game tonight. But then I realized that I would probably be writing a string of obscenities, followed by an occasional "YES!" and then a bunch of hair-raising, "No! NOO! NOOO!" chants and I figured that wouldn't be very entertaining. Also not entertaining? That stupid doodle-doodle song that Chicago sings every time they score. Mute button on the remote? Check.
Instead of telling you about how wonderful it's going to be for Philly to take the Cup in Game 7 in Chicago (because you already know how awesome that will be), I'll tell you about how I went to the gym twice this weekend and how I can barely move, laugh, breathe, walk or blink without being in pain because of it. I seriously hate that I had to stop working out because getting back into the shape I was in before is going to be no small feat. I will also tell you that I am currently trying out a different gym for a three week time period to see if I like it. Mr. BBM has joined with me as well.
On Saturday, we walked into the gym and there were only about five other people there. Sweet! No one was going to bother me. I put on my mean face, stuck my headphones in my ears, turned up the volume and got to work. I decided I would try out my new prescribed knee sleeve to see how I liked it.
About half way through my work-out, a rather overweight and out-of-shape looking older dude started talking at me. I tried to look away but he kept at it and stood right in front of me. I pulled out my headphones, obviously irritated, and he started on this whole tirade of, "I saw you over on those two machines a while ago and I see you have knee issues. What did you do? The reason I ask is because I have knee issues too and my ortho told me those machines are bad for you. You're not supposed to use them. You're supposed to do natural movements like deep squats and lunges, not extensions." He continued on for a while and I glared at him with my most irritated look I could muster.
I then told him that I'm not allowed to do deep squats (not to mention deep squats and lunges are the most natural movement I can think of-I mean, I practically walk through the grocery store doing lunge, deep squat, lunge, deep squat, because that is oh-so-natural, GRR), that I spent 8.5 months of my life working with a physical therapist under the direction of an ortho surgeon and that I also worked out with a personal trainer for about a year who was also trained and personally experienced with ACL issues. I told him he should continue to do whatever his surgeon told him, and "I'll continue to do what mine told me." I stuck my headphones back in my ears and turned away, 180 degrees so there was no question our conversation was now over.
As we were leaving, I told Mr. BBM that my workout had been great, minus my little know-it-all knee man encounter. Mr. BBM told me the dude could have cared less about my knee. He was trying to open up a line of communication with me. I would say he failed pretty miserably. Opened and closed in a matter of about 30 seconds. Score 1 for me and my headphones.
I can not stand guys who go to the gym and interfere in my workouts. I truly wish they would mind their own business. I give off the "leave me the hell alone vibe" plenty, avoid any and all eye contact, and still, it happens whenever I go. Maybe I need to check out the gym during the "soccer Mom" times, or maybe I should just pretend I don't speak English next time.
Or perhaps to let him know I'm really not conversation worthy, I should start singing that Chicago doodle-doodle song thing. I guess it might be good for something after all.
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