I've recently decided it's time to start working out. Working out for those endorphins, but even more than that working out to prepare for bikini season. Winter is not my season. The lack of sunshine, the freezing cold weather, the flu and the colds; every single one of those things make me want to hole up in my house and hibernate until Spring. Hibernate and eat everything in sight that is, all the way up until spring.
So exercise it is. I'm really seriously hoping that not only will all my working out pay off when it's time to put that two piece on, but that it will also help me survive the winter. Keep me from entering into hibernation. Endorphins are supposed to make you happy and exercise is supposed to increase your energy after all.
I finally got around to it the other day. I tossed on my sports bra, a pair of sweats, and some tennis shoes and off to the elliptical I went.
Let's be honest here. I don't work out. Like ever. I've managed to survive this far in my life the size that I am because I have a fabulous metabolism. A metabolism that is slowly starting to not be able to keep up with the fact that I eat like a teenage boy. I am hungry or snacking all the time. No joke people. I even had my brother's 17 year old friend, tell me he was impressed one night after dinner at my parent's house. It's that bad. While I've always been very appreciative of the fact that my metabolism is so great, right now it sucks. It sucks because it's slowing down and no one seems to have informed my appetite that if my metabolism slows down and it doesn't stop being hungry so much, I am going to start gaining some serious weight. Weight that I don't want to gain. If I'm being completely honest with all of you, I would like to lose about 10 pounds and start toning. It doesn't sound like that much. But when you factor in how much I hate exercising and how much I like to eat and then add in that my metabolism is slowly giving up on me, it's just one giant recipe for disaster.
Back to working out...I got all dressed and hopped on that elliptical ready to go. I was set. How hard could it be? I chase Preston around, I'm not overweight, I was sure I could handle some time on the elliptical. And then I hit 5 minutes and I thought I was dying. Literally thought I was dying. Huffing and puffing and all. It was mortifying. I'd planned on doing more like an hour. I have some serious calorie burning to do after all. I made it to about 7 or 8 minutes before I absolutely had to take a break. I sat for a few minutes and then climbed back on determined to at least be able to say I went a mile. I made that mile. It took me about 15 minutes. That elliptical freaking kicked my ass. Kicked my ass and laughed in my face. I spent the next hour sick to my stomach. Literally. I thought I was dying. Actually I think dying would have felt betterthan I was feeling. Even worse is the fact that my pride has been seriously wounded. I felt like that after 15 freaking minutes?! What the hell! And I plan on doing it again? And again? And again?
Fortunately it has gotten easier. Today I did 20 minutes on the elliptical and when I climbed off I was sore, but I still felt human. Progress!
Of course it doesn't help my exercise mentality when my husband tells me he loves me just the size I am. I start to run down that mental path where I wonder why I am working out when I'm married, I have no one to impress, and my husband said he thinks I'm perfect just the size I am. I love my husband and love even more that he thinks I'm perfect just the way I am, but it's not helping me achieve this goal.
I have to remember that I'm not happy the size that I am. That I want to lose weight. That I want to be ready for bikini season and feel as confident as I used to. I used to love shopping for a swimsuit. I never thought twice about feeling self conscious when I was on the beach. I'm doing this for me.
Well mostly just for me. I'm also doing it for that cupcake that I just ate. Clearly I have no self control.