Bust A Face

Guys… I used to be a bad ass but now I can hardly walk in public without my leg giving out on me. It kind of looks like I’ve randomly decided to bust a move Carlton style when in reality I’m just trying not to bust a face.

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I’m not a very vain person, but I must say that among all of my flaws I’ve always loved my legs. I’ve always had naturally muscular legs that look toned no matter what the state my muffin top was. And I was fast, I could move stealthily no matter what my weight was.

Needless to say… things have changed.

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(Don’t look at my leg hair… that’s rude.)

I want to be a haus again. I used to be ashamed of my muscles, and now I can’t wait to feel them stretch and flex. I can’t wait to feel powerful again. I can’t wait until I feel as physically capable as I used to feel.

The other day a few of the kids in my hall at school were trying to jump up and touch an exit sign that was hanging from the ceiling. Upon witnessing this I told them to stop it… and then promptly tried to do it myself.

I barely got off the ground.

The kids were nice enough to congratulate me on my effort and not point out the fact that I looked like a baby penguin throwing a fit.

I’m making small strides. I’ve finally been able to work out consistently even if the workouts I’m capable of doing are really lame. One early morning I found myself on a treadmill next to an acquaintance that I hadn’t seen in a long time. She ran effortlessly beside me not even noticing me as I wobbled along side her.

It was four thirty on a Tuesday morning. I was wearing the t-shirt I went to bed in and she was wearing a cute workout outfit meant to be athletically cute. (Damn her.) At first I didn’t notice that she was beside me because I was sleep walking trying to convince myself that working out at such and ungodly hour would later make me feel good. Then I glanced over and recognized her.

I’m not really much of a social butterfly when it comes to working out. I kind of just want to do my thing and then sneak out of the gym unnoticed, but I felt rude not saying anything to her.

Finally, I tapped on her shoulder and gave her a quick wave hello.

We exchanged a few niceties and I awkwardly kept trying to put my headphones back on even though she wasn’t quite done asking me questions. She was really friendly, but I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious due to the fact that I looked like an albino without mascara and she looked like freakin Bambi with her black eye lashes batting in my direction. I tried to simultaneously focus on what she was saying to me and the belt moving beneath my feet, so I didn’t end up doing one of my accidental Carlton moves.

The competitor in me couldn’t stand the fact that she was having a full conversation with me while she ran. I couldn’t stand being lapped by her (even though she couldn’t technically lap me due to the fact that we were on treadmills). Plus, I’m pretty sure this woman runs 50 mile races every other weekend and could probably kick my ass on a good day, but this didn’t stop me from wanting to provide an explanation for why I wasn’t as awesomely fit as her.

As the conversation finally ebbed I blurted out, “I had surgery.”

She looked at me.

“That’s why I can’t run.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it was pretty intense.” And that’s why I’m fatter than I was the last time I saw you. Even though that shouldn’t entirely take the blame because in reality I was fat before I had surgery and I kind of hate how your boobs stay still while you run while mine shimmy uncontrollably under my oversized pajama shirt despite the efforts of my too small sports bra. Anyway, I used to be a bad ass and still totally could be even though technically I’m not. Thought you should know… you know in case you were wondering why I can hardly walk beside you. 

“Oh, well good luck with that.”

The conversation ended shortly after. My time on the treadmill was up so I stopped the belt, gingerly stepped off the machine and hobbled out the door wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

5 thoughts on “Bust A Face

  1. when you write, it’s like de ja vu haha. Reading your blog always gives me a laugh and makes me feel better as I sit contemplating my workout wearing my old t-shirt that I wore to bed and my too small sports bra. Good for you getting up at 430am. I still can’t manage that feat.

  2. Hi, I just found your blog by way of Transforming Hollie’s blog. I love the way you describe your experiences. I get up at 4:30a at least twice a week to go to the gym before work with my son. After my shower at night, I put on my gym clothes and sleep in them. I usually don’t get that much sleep thinking about waking so early anyway. I want to wish you continue success with your recovery. I am overweight, no I am obese. I would love to be overweight. I am determined to be overweight by the end of this year. Weird as it may sound, I am living to be overweight. WOW, how life has changed. Again, good luck and I look forward to following your blog. Joy

  3. I have now devoured every single post in the blog, it’s awesome, it’s such a relief to find a weight related blog that doesn’t detail ten years of someone punishing themselves for having the temerity to gain weight by slowly excising joy from their life along with any pleasure from anything in life besides falling numbers on a scale.

    I have to confess to not understanding at all why you want to lose weight. Well I do, but maybe there’s another perspective?

    You are clearly deliriously in love with your family and have so much satisfaction in everything you do and essentially just exude joy in being alive even at disheartening moments.

    And most of the time you really like yourself physically.

    I mean – who gives a stuff about numbers determined by a dodgy study on people who grew up during the depression era that arbitrarily decide for us if we weigh too much when you’ve got joy and strength of spirit like you’ve shown you have.

    Especially if you have a figure type which, from what you’ve said, isn’t likely to be very relevant in population level statistics.

    Ok gaining weight after injuries (two years plus with a spinal injury thus far, and just now stumbling to add more things to life so I can enjoy being more mobile – I’m certain the weight I’ve put on will not stick around for long anymore than yours will), during times of routine changes or after devastating events that mean you aren’t in your normal lifeway isn’t fun. But isn’t it understandable?

    What if you decided to trust yourself a little bit more, sort of as an experiment, and focused on nurturing yourself when you need healing and reminding yourself that you do lose weight and more importantly maybe, are happier, when you are able to get back into your preferred optimistic balanced nurturing lifeway – and you do always get back to it – and focused on the small things you can do?

    It just makes my heart hurt a bit hearing you say so often about being bad at weight loss and get a bit judgemental of yourself at times when I think you might most need love and acceptance.

    I still really don’t think that’s what this blog is about weight loss.

    Not because you’re bad at it.

    Because you’re very very good at happiness.

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