Thursday, 21 March 2013

I'll Be Slipping Down Sewer Grates in No Time...

So, for those of you who have read my blog before, specifically 'Body Mass and Shame', you know that for me, the road to fitness is paved with both good intentions, and the mutilated corpses of my former selves who have given up and died rather than face one more day trying to change.

This time, it's different. (I can hear you. Stop laughing.)

This time, I mean it.

This time, I bought running shoes.

With my usual iron clad logic, I recently turned to Facebook for guidance in my constant struggle to lose weight. Nothing says 'really getting out there and making an effort to get skinny' like sitting on your ass in front of the computer, I know, but it seems that the fates were on my side.

Through a post from a cousin of a friend of the friend of a high school acquaintance who married a girl who had a kid in the same band as my eldest daughter (or something); I discovered a woman named Rosa Friesen. Rosa is a coach for Team Beachbody, the company that puts out the P90X and Slim in Six workouts. (Incidentally, the name 'Team Beachbody' offers a multitude of opportunities for size-inspired hilarity. More on that later). I have seen these ads before, and have mentally filed them in the same place I file the emails about my giant inheritance from the pastor in Nigeria.

This time, I bit. Not only because the woman behind the profile was an actual human located in the same province as myself, but because the signup fee was considerably less than the cost of a two year membership to yet another gym. Also, there are no more gyms in the neighbourhood, and I don't want to have to add 'not driving somewhere' to the 'not working out' portion of my exercise regime.

Basically, what I've done is joined her three month challenge group, which offers me a monthly supply of a great vegan meal replacement shake (although 'great' and 'vegan' are words that should stay in separate bedrooms, this one is actually less offensive than most), nutritional and exercisual (whatever- it SHOULD be a word) support from Rosa the coach, and a copy of the workout series of my choice. All for what is actually a really reasonable price. And I wheedled two friends into doing it, too, which reduces my misery by at least half.

I live in fear of making myself look stupider than I already do, so I refuse to get all cocky and rah-rah about it, as I have a history of multiple failed attempts to slim down, but I will say this; the combination of nonstop support, diet and the ridiculously hard workouts seem to finally be doing what all the gyms couldn't. I am so glad for Facebook. I love Rosa. I need her. I need to be held accountable. I need someone who will tell me that International Delights creamers are not a drink unto themselves and that gummy fish are not protein. I have lost 13 pounds in two weeks, and I am only just beginning my journey. And I really, truly, FIRMLY believe that my success will continue (Again. I can hear you. STOP LAUGHING!). So much so that I have vowed to buy a 2 piece bathing suit and wear it all summer (which IMMEDIATELY prompted my best friend to invent the newly-patented 'shirt for the eyes', the thought of which was so funny it caused a hysterical semi-drunken laughing fit which went on for hours).

In fact, if my progress continues, and I reach my goal by July 18th (I am not telling you what the goal is, so that if I must, I can welsh on this particular bet and you will never know the difference), I will show even you, my beloved friends, family, and strangers from cyber-space, my before and after pictures. I realize July is actually FIVE months from March, not three, but I am giving myself an extra sixty days because my goals are lofty ones indeed.

The before pictures, currently only seen by myself, my daughter, a girlfriend who REALLY needed some motivation, and Jason, (who sees a version of them EVERY night, oh lucky, lucky boy), are so truly bad that Liz had to close her eyes while taking them.

Imagine, if you will, a large marine mammal. I jest about my size, but am self-aware enough to realize there are people much fatter than I, so we won't imagine a HUGE marine mammal. Not a blue whale or a humpback (besides, I had that taken care of), but a smaller whale, like a beluga, or the majestic orca, perhaps.

Take your beluga out of its natural environment. Put it in a dire situation (perhaps it has beached itself due to its massive size and inability to manoeuvre and desperately needs intervention by Greenpeace- use your imagination!). Really stress it out. Make it all flushed and sweaty.

Now put it in a red sports bra. Take your time. There's a lot of squishing involved. Adjust if you need to, and make sure the pectoral fins are firmly restrained. It's hard work, but trust me, the end result will be worth it.

Put some spandex workout shorts on it. This is a little harder and more labour intensive, but we've got some time before the weight of the giant creature crushes the life out of it. You've got to really wrestle the tail flukes in there, because those belugas can be slippery, what with all that salt water. Tuck in the last bit of blubber, take a few calming breaths, and you're ready to go.

Stand your fish up. Prop it against a wall if need be, and before it slumps over due to lack of breathable oxygen, snap a picture. Hell- take one from every angle. Really focus on those dorsal fins. Make sure you get the most coverage possible, so that when your killer whale transforms into a beautiful.... (What's a skinny, attractive fish, anyway- are there any? Cause the only ones I can think of are pretty terrifying, like the viperfish, or the moray eel...) .... skinny fish thing, the obvious improvement will win it a free tee-shirt.   

Recently, I went to a 'Passion Party', where one of the items in the catalogue was a one piece fishnet body stocking (AGAIN with the whales- why do women DO this to themselves???). I laughingly told Jason that I was going to buy it, and he, with all the finesse of Captain Ahab, offered to give me the cost of the body stocking NOT to buy the thing. If by July I have seen a reasonable improvement, I am buying it. And I am wearing it in some 'after' pictures (his, not yours).

I digress. The point is this:

If things go well, I vow to follow through and offer the appropriate before and after pictures to everyone who wants to see them. Because if I can do this, so help me God, I will show that body off (the same body, incidentally, that got me into boy trouble in high school and knocked up four times and started this whole mess) to everyone with functioning eyeballs. (If things don't go well, I will re-title this blog, file it with my previous failures, and pretend that I have no idea what you're talking about when you ask how it's going.)

Tune in next week to find out which workout program I chose, and why I wish I would just have a heart attack and be dead already.