Remember this? When Do I Have To Grow Up By? No? Go back and read it then.
The main idea of the aforementioned post has not really changed in the two years since it was written. The only thing that has changed is the number of job possibilities that have newly sprung into my head since that time. Yes, there’s more now. It doesn’t help me in the least. In lots of situations limits provide us with freedom. There are no limits here. I wish there was somebody you could pay to pick two or three of the choices in your mind and just say “OK, these are your only choices. Pick one and shut up.”
One of my newer job revelations is actually something I’ve been interested in for a very long time. It just never occurred to me that it could be a career. For years one of the things that has almost always been on my mind is physical appearance. I do know how shallow that sounds, yes, but hear me out. You’re lying if you say you’ve never been concerned with your own appearance. Losing weight, diet, nutrition, cardio, weights, all that has always been a preoccupation of mine.
When I became a Zumba instructor I realized how much I enjoy helping people get into better shape. A few months later I decided that I would buckle down and stop silently complaining to myself about the changes I wanted to make and do it. That’s what Dave has always told me. Any time I would say how I wanted to run a mile in ten minutes or how I wanted to lose thirty pounds, he would tell me to stop talking about it and just do it. It seemed kind of mean at the time, but it was good advice. Especially since I got to use it on him later on when he complained that his chest wasn’t big enough.
Not long into my Zumba classes I had a few people asking for help and advice on losing weight. So I told them what I knew and had read and sent them on their way hoping to have helped. However, as they thanked me and turned to leave I wondered if I should have added “but I’m not a professional!” Why would I want to say that? I don’t know, so that maybe if my instructions didn’t work they couldn’t quite blame me? No, I knew that my advice was actually good and I don’t think a certified professional would have given much different gospel. I just didn’t feel like I had earned the right to dispense it.
Around the same time as my classes started I decided to stop talking about it and do it. My goal was to lose thirty pounds in six months, a goal I felt was reasonable. Five pounds a month is a little more than a pound a week and that’s not considered unhealthy. I had already prepared myself that it wasn’t going to be instantaneous. Results were not going to be obvious but that they would come. And they did. I recorded my measurements each month or so and only weighed myself about as often. Daily weight fluctuates with water and, for women, cycle and I don’t think it is mentally healthy to weigh yourself daily, nor is it safe for your scale after you fling it through the window and into the street.
I won’t get into the little details, but I used what I knew and somehow manifested some will power and I managed to lose twenty two pounds. However, the inches lost far outweighed the weight loss. I lost 38.5 inches total from my body. That’s more than three feet of space. To me that’s just astonishing.
I wanted to be able to help other people achieve that. I looked into becoming a personal trainer and dietician. There wasn’t really any official schooling involved. All you really have to do is buy the books, study, and take the test through ACE or AFAA. Yeah, it’s not cheap but it’s much more affordable than a four year degree. So for a while that was what I wanted to do. Then of course my mind changed because of what was going on. I went back to writing and thought perhaps that was the path for me. I really hate how indecisive I am.
When I got pregnant in June of this year my fitness and weight loss goals obviously had to be put on hiatus. A lot of people might consider pregnancy and the state right after giving birth to be a huge setback in a journey of weight loss. I am fortunate enough to see it much differently. I see it as a fresh start, which is exactly what I needed. Right before I got pregnant my attention and determination had waned considerably and I stopped doing what needed to be done. I had a brief surge in my motivation and it is reflected in my June measurements as they were my smallest to date, but then I got pregnant.
If you’ve read my posts then you know when I get pregnant I start getting all kinds of ideas about doing things that I can’t while pregnant. Running being the most prevalent. This time around it has extended to burlesque dancing. Definitely not something you want to see a pregnant chick doing. I feel that this is kind of like that, but not really. This is something that I’ve thought about before, the only different is that I want the formal education that goes with it.
Recently I read a pretty popular article on MSN and Huffington Post. That article stated that by the year 2030 that 50% of Americans are projected to be obese. That’s half, yo. HALF. That’s like one out of every married couple. Does that scare anyone else? That said to me that healthcare is going to be an even more stable field to work in firstly. With the fat comes the disease; high blood pressure, diabetes, heart disease, joint problems, all manner of debilitating health issues.
I know I won’t be part of that 50%. That probably sounds arrogant, but here’s why I say that: I won’t be part of the obese 50% of Americans because I won’t allow myself to be. That’s why I am so confident in saying that. Moreover, I won’t allow my kids to be in that number either.
That number petrified me when I read it and it inspired me to want to help beat that number back even more. Half the population being fat is simply unacceptable. I told Dave all this a few nights ago and he said something to me that pushed me more, though I don’t think he meant it to. He said “I know what your thing is now. Your goal. You are waging a war on fat.” I can’t help but think he said this to make it sound a little frivolous and stupid, but he was right. There it was. Never able to really put it in words (Shocking, I know) Dave was able to. Sean, our roommate, made it even better when he said that it was a good war to fight. It’s true. Someone is going to have to battle this. Really, it looks like half of the country is going to have to battle it, but someone has to guide the resistance. Why not me?
I know how to lose weight. I can tell you how, but I can’t make you do it. That’s the hard part. I’m going to be reading and researching and studying all this anyway, why not do it for a living?
As for writing, I can still do that. See? I just proved it.
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label weight loss. Show all posts
Monday, October 1, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Gotta Have A Gimmick
So here’s the thing. With pretty much every pregnancy of mine, somewhere towards the middle to end I get the itchy feet. Not literally. I’m not over here hopping around with Athlete’s Foot or anything. I get antsy. Slowly, the physical things I can put myself through diminish. They become fewer and fewer until it’s all I can do to get out of bed and go through the motions. That’s the bitter end usually. As that starts to happen I start to develop delusions of grandeur. Usually this involves running. A 5K, 10K, marathon, whatever. As I dream of this, though, there is a voice in the back of my head reminding me “dude…you hate running.” I mean, it’s whispered but I can still hear it. Yes, it’s true, I hate running. I really want to like it, though.
This time, however, as I am a day away from being 18 weeks, the itch has begun but it’s not running I’m thinking of. Usually I don’t start to think of things I physically can’t do until…well, I physically can’t do them. There’s not really anything like that yet. Almost at the halfway mark and I’m still working out every week. Maybe not as many times as I was six months ago, but I’m still there doing Zumba and lifting weights.
People still can’t really tell that I’m pregnant, which is actually kind of disconcerting. I rant on this a good bit because I don’t really understand it. With all of my other pregnancies I started out weighing between 150 and 160, overweight by medical and statistical standards. I would gain very little weight, have an average size baby, and two weeks later weigh ten pounds less than I started. It was a great thing. My body seems to have the innate ability to use everything I have already in stock before it starts requiring outside inventory. Every other time, though, I was showing by now, and that’s even with having been overweight. My mother insists that I was not overweight, but I’m 5’4.” That is not tall enough to comfortably weigh 160 unless you can also bench press 160. I could not. Sorry, I was overweight. I’m ok with it, you should be, too.
A year ago I began recording my weight and measurements, started using MyFitnessPal to log what I was eating and keep track of the calories, and I started to lose weight. All it took was a conscious effort and it started happening. When I started doing that on August 19, 2011 I weighed 152. When I got pregnant in May of this year I weighed 132. Granted still ten pounds shy of my goal, but I’m not really sure even now what that might’ve looked like.
The point is I weighed about 20-30 pounds less than I usually do upon getting pregnant. I needed to prepare myself for what my body might be about to do. Surely, I wouldn’t gain such minimal weight this time around because there wasn’t excess laying around for my body to use. I figured I’d start gaining weight pretty early on and start showing a lot sooner, this being my fourth and all. Oh, life, you continue to teach me that I really don’t know crap.
I have kept recording my measurements every month and I let my doctor’s office watch my weight. As of my last week’s appointment I have gained 16.5 inches and LOST two pounds. WTF? If you understand that, then please explain it in the comments. So I’ve gotten bigger and yet I’ve lost weight. See why I’m so baffled? And to top it off, I still don’t need maternity clothes and most people have no idea that I’m pregnant. Though I believe I am now at the point where it looks like I’m just getting chubby. Everyone’s least favorite phase of pregnancy. So maybe, just maybe, I’ll be showing my Thanksgiving.
I know it sounds like I’m just bitching and that the women who gain 50 pounds would love to have my problem. I asked the doctor last week if my weight was anything to be concerned about. My weight has been the same up to last week where it dipped slightly. His answer made me recall that this guy is a hippie. He said he wasn’t worried and then he said he’d tell me the story of one of his favorite patients. He said that this woman got pregnant and started off not feeling well so she lost 70 pounds. Not 7, SEVENTY. He had to clarify that number. Meanwhile I didn’t think I had misheard him, I was just noting that she had seventy pounds to spare. He said then she started to feel better and she gained 140 pounds. So in my head I’m thinking, so she actually just gained 70 pounds total. He went on and said that you’d think that severe weight loss and then gain would have hurt the baby, but she had a perfectly healthy seven pound baby. So my inner monologue is commenting that she must’ve still had like sixty pounds to lose. I know that’s not why he told me that, but it’s just where my head goes. So clearly he’s not going to worry about my paltry little two pound weight loss. My body is totally efficient, perhaps a little too efficient, but it takes care of itself pretty much without my knowledge or consent.
I realize I’ve gotten off on quite the tangent here. I’ve written a post within a post. It’s postception. Enjoy your two for one blog entry!
Annnnnnyway…
My crazy thing I’m planning for my fourth and final pregnancy? Nope, it’s not running. It’s burlesque. Let me just clarify briefly here, that Cher-Christina Aguilera movie that came out a few years ago? That is not burlesque. That’s just a big flashy movie that people didn’t watch. Real burlesque roots go back to the turn of the century. Wait…two turns of the century? Not this last one, the one before. It has enjoyed a revival in the last twenty years thanks to entertainers like Dita Von Teese. Even if you don’t know burlesque, you know who Dita is.
Burlesque troops have sprung up in key places like Vegas, New York and Texas among others, resurrecting and reinventing burlesque. Sadly, Atlanta has not really taken up the call to burlesque. It’s not the hub that Austin or Dallas is, though it really could be. Burlesque is comedy, and music, and of course, girls. Have you got where I’m going with this yet?
I know that you’ve probably never even heard of someone saying that after they have their fourth child they’re going to embark on a career of scantily clad dancing. Don’t worry; I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say it either. So I’m the first! Hard to equate this with running 26.2 miles, isn’t it? It’s challenging in so many more ways. Not only do you have to be in pretty good shape, you have to be creative, you have to dance, you have to have confidence, and most importantly you have to be able to accept your body. That’s the great thing about burlesque. Some of the best performers are not the rail thin, socially sought after forms. These are girls that have a little something to them, and their confidence in that makes them so much more awesome.
I know also that a lot of people are probably going to be terribly disenchanted and unhappy by my admission of what I want to do, maybe even disgusted. That’s ok. I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for me. Every (or at least most) mother knows what it’s like to have to put yourself last. Not because you want to, but because it’s what has got to be done. At my house, everyone eats before I even think about feeding myself. Kids, husband, whoever. Kids get clothes and shoes first. Necessities are first, wants are last, and Mommy’s wants are dead last. If we don’t do it, no one will. Trust me, too, when I say that I will not see my kids go hungry or cold just so that I can have those new giant ostrich feather fans. We have to put ourselves first sometimes, though. Do I intend to make this into a career? Only if it does it all by itself. I’m not about to slap on some pasties and go looking for an agent or anything.
I know this will probably be looked down upon, kinda like some people sneer at the people with a bunch of tattoos or multicolored hair. I do hope, though, that someone might be able to see this as a positive thing and encourage it.
Of course there’s always the chance that this is just something to content myself with while I’m pregnant. Heard about me running any marathons? Yeah, me neither.
This time, however, as I am a day away from being 18 weeks, the itch has begun but it’s not running I’m thinking of. Usually I don’t start to think of things I physically can’t do until…well, I physically can’t do them. There’s not really anything like that yet. Almost at the halfway mark and I’m still working out every week. Maybe not as many times as I was six months ago, but I’m still there doing Zumba and lifting weights.
People still can’t really tell that I’m pregnant, which is actually kind of disconcerting. I rant on this a good bit because I don’t really understand it. With all of my other pregnancies I started out weighing between 150 and 160, overweight by medical and statistical standards. I would gain very little weight, have an average size baby, and two weeks later weigh ten pounds less than I started. It was a great thing. My body seems to have the innate ability to use everything I have already in stock before it starts requiring outside inventory. Every other time, though, I was showing by now, and that’s even with having been overweight. My mother insists that I was not overweight, but I’m 5’4.” That is not tall enough to comfortably weigh 160 unless you can also bench press 160. I could not. Sorry, I was overweight. I’m ok with it, you should be, too.
A year ago I began recording my weight and measurements, started using MyFitnessPal to log what I was eating and keep track of the calories, and I started to lose weight. All it took was a conscious effort and it started happening. When I started doing that on August 19, 2011 I weighed 152. When I got pregnant in May of this year I weighed 132. Granted still ten pounds shy of my goal, but I’m not really sure even now what that might’ve looked like.
The point is I weighed about 20-30 pounds less than I usually do upon getting pregnant. I needed to prepare myself for what my body might be about to do. Surely, I wouldn’t gain such minimal weight this time around because there wasn’t excess laying around for my body to use. I figured I’d start gaining weight pretty early on and start showing a lot sooner, this being my fourth and all. Oh, life, you continue to teach me that I really don’t know crap.
I have kept recording my measurements every month and I let my doctor’s office watch my weight. As of my last week’s appointment I have gained 16.5 inches and LOST two pounds. WTF? If you understand that, then please explain it in the comments. So I’ve gotten bigger and yet I’ve lost weight. See why I’m so baffled? And to top it off, I still don’t need maternity clothes and most people have no idea that I’m pregnant. Though I believe I am now at the point where it looks like I’m just getting chubby. Everyone’s least favorite phase of pregnancy. So maybe, just maybe, I’ll be showing my Thanksgiving.
I know it sounds like I’m just bitching and that the women who gain 50 pounds would love to have my problem. I asked the doctor last week if my weight was anything to be concerned about. My weight has been the same up to last week where it dipped slightly. His answer made me recall that this guy is a hippie. He said he wasn’t worried and then he said he’d tell me the story of one of his favorite patients. He said that this woman got pregnant and started off not feeling well so she lost 70 pounds. Not 7, SEVENTY. He had to clarify that number. Meanwhile I didn’t think I had misheard him, I was just noting that she had seventy pounds to spare. He said then she started to feel better and she gained 140 pounds. So in my head I’m thinking, so she actually just gained 70 pounds total. He went on and said that you’d think that severe weight loss and then gain would have hurt the baby, but she had a perfectly healthy seven pound baby. So my inner monologue is commenting that she must’ve still had like sixty pounds to lose. I know that’s not why he told me that, but it’s just where my head goes. So clearly he’s not going to worry about my paltry little two pound weight loss. My body is totally efficient, perhaps a little too efficient, but it takes care of itself pretty much without my knowledge or consent.
I realize I’ve gotten off on quite the tangent here. I’ve written a post within a post. It’s postception. Enjoy your two for one blog entry!
Annnnnnyway…
My crazy thing I’m planning for my fourth and final pregnancy? Nope, it’s not running. It’s burlesque. Let me just clarify briefly here, that Cher-Christina Aguilera movie that came out a few years ago? That is not burlesque. That’s just a big flashy movie that people didn’t watch. Real burlesque roots go back to the turn of the century. Wait…two turns of the century? Not this last one, the one before. It has enjoyed a revival in the last twenty years thanks to entertainers like Dita Von Teese. Even if you don’t know burlesque, you know who Dita is.
Burlesque troops have sprung up in key places like Vegas, New York and Texas among others, resurrecting and reinventing burlesque. Sadly, Atlanta has not really taken up the call to burlesque. It’s not the hub that Austin or Dallas is, though it really could be. Burlesque is comedy, and music, and of course, girls. Have you got where I’m going with this yet?
I know that you’ve probably never even heard of someone saying that after they have their fourth child they’re going to embark on a career of scantily clad dancing. Don’t worry; I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say it either. So I’m the first! Hard to equate this with running 26.2 miles, isn’t it? It’s challenging in so many more ways. Not only do you have to be in pretty good shape, you have to be creative, you have to dance, you have to have confidence, and most importantly you have to be able to accept your body. That’s the great thing about burlesque. Some of the best performers are not the rail thin, socially sought after forms. These are girls that have a little something to them, and their confidence in that makes them so much more awesome.
I know also that a lot of people are probably going to be terribly disenchanted and unhappy by my admission of what I want to do, maybe even disgusted. That’s ok. I’m not doing it for them. I’m doing it for me. Every (or at least most) mother knows what it’s like to have to put yourself last. Not because you want to, but because it’s what has got to be done. At my house, everyone eats before I even think about feeding myself. Kids, husband, whoever. Kids get clothes and shoes first. Necessities are first, wants are last, and Mommy’s wants are dead last. If we don’t do it, no one will. Trust me, too, when I say that I will not see my kids go hungry or cold just so that I can have those new giant ostrich feather fans. We have to put ourselves first sometimes, though. Do I intend to make this into a career? Only if it does it all by itself. I’m not about to slap on some pasties and go looking for an agent or anything.
I know this will probably be looked down upon, kinda like some people sneer at the people with a bunch of tattoos or multicolored hair. I do hope, though, that someone might be able to see this as a positive thing and encourage it.
Of course there’s always the chance that this is just something to content myself with while I’m pregnant. Heard about me running any marathons? Yeah, me neither.
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