Getting naked

Sometimes I just write whatever pops into my mind and I can be very thrown off by the outcome. But since this is a somewhat secret blog in the fact that very few of people know about it…let’s go with it.

You can take the title in a few different ways, and we will look at it from a few different viewpoints.

As I’ve been working out with a trainer, I’m starting to feel different. I am being told I look different. The scale isn’t yelling ‘hey, you…you are losing weight’ or anything, but maybe things are shifting.

The basic truth is that I feel better when I am working out. I also eat better. I guess the two go hand in hand for most of us. But my mind does interesting things when I am making these changes. I start to feel sexy. I have the mindset of someone who weighs 100 pounds less than I do. But then you look in the mirror and you are back to ‘Nope-not sexy’ mode. Kind of a mind f$#k if you will.

I find myself really interested in how other people feel about themselves naked. Do they like their bodies? Do really fit people look at themselves in the mirror a lot? Because as an overweight person, I dread seeing myself naked in the mirror. Forget being naked in front of anyone–not even a remote chance in hell. But do people with really fit bodies have an abundance of confidence too?

I like to pretend I win the lottery, and as I am making these changes I get to do a breast reduction (and major lift) , and cut away loose skin from weight loss surgery. (Because, you know, money isn’t an object!) The turkey neck is gone too.

I do look at people and wonder are they confident naked??

Getting naked can also be with those raw emotions. I met a listener who did weight loss surgry and she said the hard part for her is the mental stuff. Um, yeah. The mental part really does mess with you. I look back at who I was at say age 25, and I wonder where that girl is now. Because she certainly isn’t in front of me when I look in the mirror. My confidence has changed in ways I hadn’t expected. I set time aside for myself to do the things I need to do to recharge, but I don’t necessarily think positively about myself.

Sometimes in a day I can toggle back and forth from feeling sexy, sultry and confident….to shy, awkward and dumpy. And sometimes that back and forth can happen like 10 times in a day.

I don’t think I judge anyone as harshly as I judge myself. And then I dive head first into ‘I don’t give a shit mode’. And stuff a piece of chocolate in my mouth.

Where are you with getting naked? Either physical or emotional?

 

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It’s a funk

I feel very disoriented lately. Migraines have been plaguing me for over a week. I did manage somehow to still do a 5k Sunday. It was very cold and windy. My goal was 45 minutes but I finished in 49:06.

I feel very off kilter. I met with my trainer Monday and he tried to boost my mindset. But I didn’t get far. Tuesday I felt off still, and met up with Javier to train again. We talked a lot about my headspace and he explained his thoughts on it. I’m making this huge transition in my life, and it is unbalancing everything. Like I’m scaling this mountain but I can’t get my feet placed. And that seems to be true.

It feels weird to say, but I’m need someone to tell me there is light at the end of the  fracking tunnel! I’m blind to seeing the changes, but I feel emotionally raw on the inside. Why?? My mind can’t connect the dots between working out (gaining physical strength) and feeling emotional upheaval. Unless the weight is symbolic in some messed up way that I have yet to see.

Maybe it is because the headaches have me at my wits end. But I’m tired of this feeling blah. If I have to go numb and build up a shell to plow thru, well, that’s what I’ll do.

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My trainer took this picture. I hate it. But I keep looking at it. There is a part of me that feels sexy AF in this picture. The curves at the waist maybe. The feeling of power lifting maybe.

I did go to my stylist today and told her I need to find my happy. So we dyed my hair purple.

It’s like a costume. You’ll see shocking color on the outside so you won’t think to look deeper. Then you don’t need to think too much.

 

It’s different this time

 

I’m back from London and I have so many things to share with you next week! But right now I want to start things from a different perspective. Before my trip many of you know I had started working out with a personal trainer at Tuel Shed Training. I wanted to not only be in better shape for my trip, but continue to better myself overall.

I was going to gone for a solid week and a half without training during my vacation and my biggest fear was that I wouldn’t get back into my fitness groove. I know me, and a small break like this vacation COULD derail me. So I made sure I had booked an appointment with my trainer for today, Saturday morning, so I had no excuses.

Working out with Javier isn’t easy. Other trainers have let me get out of exercises. Javier doesn’t. He doesn’t find me charming in any way. (That I can tell) He makes me do the work and then do five more. Always five more when I can’t even lift my arm to brush hair out of my face.

I think when you find the right personal trainer it is sort of like going to a therapist. There is trust. And maybe it’s just me, but I’ve found that I’ve let my guard down in many ways. He has made me cry. He has asked questions I have never answered to anyone, much less myself.

My biggest challenge health wise is my legs. For about 20 years I’ve known something is happening there. My lymphatic system doesn’t function properly (according to all the drs I’ve seen) and I retain fluid. I admitted to Javier that I try not to let my bulky, icky legs get me down, but it’s a huge embarrassment for me. It kept me wearing jeans in the summer. I never wore skirts or shorts. I have tears rolling down my face as I write this, but it’s so true.

Javier came up with a plan to help me. He did research to find out how we can try to help flush fluid from my legs. No one ever took the time to help me find a solution. So I started the plan he laid out. I jumped on a mini trampoline. I drank hot lemon water. And a whole lot of other things because he made me believe we could do this together.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m not the most positive person in the world and I can be challenging to figure out. So all of this positivity is foreign to me.

And then I went to London. Imagine my already swollen legs, on a plane. For 8 to 9 hours. I texted my trainer on day 2 a picture of my legs. Not just swollen but covered in black and blue marks. And he did more research and told me what was causing it. And how to alleviate the pain. I cringe just thinking of the pain I was in the first few days of my trip. And we walked nonstop getting anywhere from 18,000 to 21,000 steps in a day. My whole trip he was there for me. Checking to see how I was doing and reassuring me.

I really thought all my working out would have prepped me for the physicality of this trip, but I did not consider my legs.

After I landed in Minneapolis Thursday afternoon I sent a picture of my swollen feet to Javier. Pretty much doubled in size. He told me this morning he was about to send me to the dr. I think he was more worried than I thought to be.

Yesterday I got a lymphatic massage to help push fluid out. And it did help. Javier and I worked out this morning and I just realized he had me seated working out my arms the whole session. He probably didn’t want me on my feet.

So basically he isn’t going to let me fail or quit. He has come to realize my insecurities and picks me up when I need it. And I’ve come to the conclusion that I need it a lot. I’m so afraid of failing at this. I don’t want to have my body fail me. I did not want to be this person.

This time is different. For so many reasons. I remember the day I just had enough, and I had read Luke’s blog about Tuel Shed Training. I didn’t want to spend the money on a trainer and for a long time was convinced I could do this myself.

But I can’t. And that’s ok. And it’s helpful and encouraging to have someone who believes in you….more that you believe in yourself sometimes.

This got me totally vulnerable. It’s a weird and unsettling place for me.

Eat more??

Monday I went to the place that had a high tech scale that analizes everything. Truth telling machine that basically told me the scale isn’t moving and my body fat isn’t changing. I was down in the dumps. I took the print out and headed to workout with my trainer.

He looked things over and told me that he was excited by the results. It told him I wasn’t eating enough. I have to up my calories from 1200 to 1700. Which after Gastric Sleeve seems impossible! But the working out requires fuel. So I was discouraged and getting really deep in a well of pity. But not Javier. He was jazzed by things. And really to be honest, helped me snap out of my funk. He asked if I had to choose, do I want the scale to go down or my body fat? I had to make a decision. I want the scale to move short term, body fat can go down over time.

Look, we are building muscle. We are strengthening my core. We are working over here! I just sometimes need a little hand holding to tell me what I’m doing is right. I’m not as confident as I appear to be honest.

So TST Excel is a group I am working with that my trainer heads up. Videos, nutrition tips and more. On the Facebook page was a tip to start blogging to get out of heads. The topic suggestion was this:

“Who or what has stopped you from changing in the past? How will you overcome these obstacles?”

I think in many ways I’ve gotten in my own way. Focus was put on everyone else and not me. When my daughter was young I would miss workouts because she was up all night,  so I was exhausted. Or I didn’t have someone to watch her while my husband was at work. And slowly I stopped caring about myself. I had a wake up call when I was over 300 pounds and had gastric sleeve. And I did amazing! But slowly I stopped focusing on me again, and let things slip. So now I have regain.

Look–things happen like they are supposed to happen and in their own time. Every problem is a journey. I don’t have regrets as to what got me here. I am here and I’m taking ownership of things.

Luckily I have a support system that gets it.

I am important. I am enough.

 

The purple dress

At the time of the purple dress I was a single, young girl living in Minneapolis. I had moved there with a boyfriend, and when we split up I found myself in a big city, with a lot fun to be had. I worked as a programming assistant at a tv station and it was mind numbingly boring. So I pretty much went to rock clubs every night. Where I ended up making friends with a few girls whose morals were a lot more questionable than my own.

New Years Eve was coming up and the plan was to roadtrip North to Superior, Wisconsin. A band we liked was playing and I remember the bar closed for one hour between 4-5am. So we planned to really have a wild night. We got a motel room…I do remember that.

Im guessing the year was 1993. I may have been early 20’s. I found this purple dress at the Mall of America. It was purple leather suede. Outrageous bright purple that was going to get you noticed. I recall it was pretty much a backless halter style dress straight out of a hair band video. It took me a full afternoon to decide if I wanted to spend $100 on this dress. I wish I knew what size it was. Maybe 10? The girls I was going to spend NYE with hated the dress because they knew it was killer. It really made everyone up their game for the night.

I had long blonde hair. And a lot of it. I wore the dress with fishnet stockings and thigh high boots. I was trying to get someone’s attention, but I don’t recall who. I know the night ended with me and another girl walking back to the motel, dressed inappropriately for the weather as it was like -30 windchill.

What I remember about the dress was feeling invincible in it. At one point in the evening a guy in the band and his girlfriend stopped me to tell me how awesome the dress was, and how incredible I looked in it. Purple suede. Man.

i just spent an hour going thru old photos to see if there was an pics from that night. Before cell phones, carrying a camera to a bar was just a hassle. So I came up empty handed. And I just went thru totes of old clothes to see if I could find it. But it must have been released in the last purge.

I thought about that dress today on my run, and how special I felt in it. It made me smile. It was like armour.

i really wish I still had it even though fitting in it would be impossible.

It’s called ‘A Come Apart’

My friend Brandi called them ‘come aparts’. Where you feel defeated and sad with no apparent reason to be found.

I’m in the middle of a whopper. And I don’t know why. It started last night. I felt all of a sudden like I was about to drown in self doubt. I’m feeling like I’m working hard and eating right but not seeing changes. My mind is screaming ‘it’s not working!!’ Really loud.

And really that’s a lot to deal with. But then more piled on top. My 9 year hit me with a question about kids using the term gay. Which lead to a conversation about what it means, why it isn’t bad and how people of all races, religions, gender etc can be different from one another.

Then she asked me what bras do.

I needed to get out of the hous and my husband said ‘Go!’ So I took took a long walk. Got back and told everyone I’m sleeping in and not setting any alarm.

And forgot to be the tooth fairy. So as I slept in Dad and daughter had a convo that was about the tooth fairy being real. She lost her last tooth yesterday. I was in tears this morning when I realized what happened. She hugged me and said ‘Mom, you’re human and you make mistakes, it’s ok!’  But I am beating myself up.

Then I had to discuss puberty with her, which I was not prepped for in any way, shape or form.

Everyone agreed Mom needed alone time. As I made my way upstairs to my hidey hole I stubbed my toe on a weight laying on the floor.

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Last night…or right now

I want to share a blog I wrote this morning on my ‘official’ radio station website. And elaborate a little more here. But at the moment I can’t copy the blog as the website is down.

And I’m in a very introspective mood. Like the sound of a 9 yr old chewing an apple is about to send me over the edge. I have quiet, noisy, restless, thoughts running scrambled in my brain. Somehow that makes sense. Maybe my new Spotify playlist will. It will at least get my shoes on for a walk. Not the fastest songs. But clearly Adam Duritz is lyrically speaking my language tonight, hence all the Counting Crows songs. I can’t find any of my pics with Counting  Crows at the moment. But oddly enough I found Aerosmith. Sometimes I have to remember I’ve lived a pretty full life.

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Listen here.