Dallas Bound
7/20
Dallas bound.
I was waiting in the security TSA line and was struck by a definite feeling of 1984. A young pregnant Persian woman in a head scarf smiled when my eye caught hers. We silently acknowledged the awkwardness of standing on blue boxes with our arms raised. When I glanced outside, I saw the silver fuselages of the AA planes. I miss being excited about flying. My grandfather flew for American Airlines. I had the little silver plane, and plastic gold wings for being a “brave flyer” as a child. I remember dressing up, being consciously polite (a stretch for an avowed tomboy), and feeling part of an amazing moment. Now, I just feel weird, like I’m part of some bizarre square dance set to banal elevator music. Now, I’m hoping I don’t lose my seat to an oversold flight.
Pah! I am on vacation. I am releasing my need to be in control. My bags are checked, 9am flight, I gonna be high as a kite by then….(Sorry. Rocket man a la Capt. Kirk just flashed by:o) My bestie, James is poised to pick me up in Dallas, I have lunch plans with a great friend I haven’t seen in 4 years. My Holly, what can I say about her? I think her name was Delicious when I met her. Seriously… She was a wench named Delicious at Scarborough Faire, in Waxahachie, Texas. That was 1989. She was a massage therapist before I even contemplated being one. We kept bumping into each other over the next decade. Somewhere along the way, I think we finally gave in and became friends. Whenever I go back to Texas, I always have to have girl time with her.
On the plane, wahoo! I’m on my way. It’s my 20 year high school reunion, and I have no idea what I’m floating into. Ah well, I’m looking at this week away as a chance to detach for a bit and calm down. I’ve been pushing to achieve goals for the past eight years. First, it was completing college then it was my gastric bypass, recovery and maintenance, and then it was developing my own massage business. I’m beat. I take calls and texts at all hours. I’m always attending mixers, the LB Roller Derby, sports events, marathons, etc… I have a great pool of friends that I exercise/play with, and all the other various bits ‘n’ bobs surrounding my life. It consumes my time. I find myself worrying about getting to the next activity before I’m done doing the activity I’m at. This includes fun lunches with friends. I’m distracted, I’m nervous, and some days I just feel completely blah. I know that is life, but I also know it is me giving into being a worry wart, instead of just rolling with it, and enjoying the mega cool life that I’ve carved out for myself. I’m really searching for that Zen smile that the Dali Llama has all the time. The universe tends unfold as it should. I need to trust that.
Well, I haven’t touched on working out or detox at all. I have been kind of squirrelly as far as my diet the past two weeks. I’m starting the 6 week cleanse again after I get back from Texas. I’m hoping to learn more veggie heavy recipes to get used to preparing instead of my usual heavy fare. I’ve played out my basalmic/rice wine vinegar recipes; I’m ready to learn some different flavor combinations. I managed to luck into trading with a farmer’s market manager who will bring me a grocery list of products for a massage. Fresh fruit, veg, bread, eggs, fish, hummus, figs and flowers, all for me!! See! The universe wants me to be healthy:o). I’m thankful, because one of my driving goals is to reduce the amount of money I spend in a month. I’m paying off credit debt, and I’ve promised myself I’m going to learn how to budget myself, and have healthy monetary habits as well as eating habits. If I’m driving this train, I’m not going to run it into the ground.
Like I said before: this year’s goal, organize, organize, organize. I’m still training for ANW. I have no idea if I can get my body up a 14ft wall, but I’m training for it. I ask Kim all the time if she thinks I can do it. She tells me she thinks that I can do anything given a year to train. I believe her. I have no major injuries, and I’ve recovered from any workout “ouchies”. I should be able to train up to it. I had a few breakthroughs since my last entry. I can do side plank arm lifts (turning to the side with hand behind head in side plank position, I can do a box jump on an 8 inch step, and I jumped on Lauren’s back and let her fireman’s carry me about 100 yards.
First: side plank for 90 seconds. Crazy talk! My delts burn, my upper abs are screaming and trembling, hell, my legs seem just along for the ride considering how much everything else is complaining. But I can do them now. Kim and I did plank, faced each other, and reached over to slap opposite hands, back and forth. Right then left, right then left, for 90 seconds a few days ago. I stayed up almost the whole time. There is nothing shameful in dropping out of a pose, as long as you get back up. I collapse, I curse, I shake and breathe heavily, but I always get back up. I often have to shake off the “I can’t do this!” moment, reset my body, flex my ribs to engage my core, and start over. Jumping rope makes me want to cry. I can do about 6-10 reps then I get tangled in the rope, or it hits me in the head, or I pee a little when I hit the ground and the embarrassment throws my step off. It’s humiliating. My inner adult starts shouting at my inner child. I’m mortified, and ashamed I can’t master as simple a task, as a child’s game like jump rope. It’s amazing to realize how much physical ability I’ve lost over the years. But also to realize how needlessly proud I am, and how uncomfortable I feel being humbled physically. That is why it is hard to get out when you’re extremely fat. You’re afraid of falling, of making a fool of yourself or even worse, becoming the world’s fool on youtube.
Second: the box jump. I cannot fully describe how difficult t was for me to take on the box jump. The other badasses in class do their box jumps on the benches surrounding the bandshell at the park. I did mine at one of the steps. I felt like my feet were concrete. I’m supposed to swing my arms, squat then burst upward and forward jumping off with both feet, and landing with both feet. I was petrified. I’ve fallen and twisted my ankles numerous times. The fatter you are the harder you fall. I’ve found different moments were fears instilled in me while I was fat seriously hinder my ability to do things now. I was really frightened standing in front of that step. I swung my arms and tried to leap. My feet stayed planted on the ground. I jerked up then down like I was in six inches of mud. Kim smiled at me patiently. I was the only one in class, so she was waiting until I actually achieved one box jump before she started the clock for 90 seconds. I tried about two more times before making a frustrated noise in my throat and walked away to compose myself. I can’t believe I was about to start crying like some little bitch on the biggest loser, but I was. That step represented everything normal I wanted to be. Who cares If I’d lost the weight, if I couldn’t move like I’d lost the weight. I went back to the step, and jumped. I landed solid with both feet. Kim gave me an “Alriiiight!” and high-fived me. Each time I jumped the fear was less, but I was still shaken by how frightened I was about doing it.
Third: the fireman’s carry. Mondays are partnered workouts at badass hour. One of the exercises was we leap on our partner’s back and they carry us about 100yards, then we switch places. I was scared to leap on Lauren’s back. All I could think was “Dear God, it’ll kill her”. Now, I had just spent five minutes chiding her to not worry about jumping on my back, telling her to be confident about it, that she wouldn’t hurt me blah blah blah. SO now I was the nervously giggling idiot afraid to jump. Hampered by unknown fears, which were partially that I had never imagined anyone could carry me, and I didn’t know how I was going to clamber onto her, because her hips were higher than mine. I jumped three or four times. The first few, my stomach was in the way, it kept getting caught on her butt while I was trying to leapfrog onto her back. Kim got to the point where she was like “Don’t worry about it, she can carry me” but Lauren believed in me. She told me to do it one more time. I hauled myself up. She said “Perfect” and started running! I felt like I was falling off the whole time. I giggled hysterically the whole time. I was embarrassed because I felt like I was so heavy. I was nervous and exhilarated, because I did it. I didn’t think I could and did it anyway. Thank you Lauren for pushing me.
That’s the hardest part of this journey. It’s all new territory for me. I never had an adult body that wasn’t morbidly obese. My distance gauges between me and the rest of the world are completely off. My ability to judge clothes that will fit me, spaces between cars I can walk through, and things I can climb, leap over, or lift is completely off. Every time I do something physically new, it’s like a child learning it. I’m petrified, frustrated, and excited all at once. It’s crazy making.
Dallas bound.
I was waiting in the security TSA line and was struck by a definite feeling of 1984. A young pregnant Persian woman in a head scarf smiled when my eye caught hers. We silently acknowledged the awkwardness of standing on blue boxes with our arms raised. When I glanced outside, I saw the silver fuselages of the AA planes. I miss being excited about flying. My grandfather flew for American Airlines. I had the little silver plane, and plastic gold wings for being a “brave flyer” as a child. I remember dressing up, being consciously polite (a stretch for an avowed tomboy), and feeling part of an amazing moment. Now, I just feel weird, like I’m part of some bizarre square dance set to banal elevator music. Now, I’m hoping I don’t lose my seat to an oversold flight.
Pah! I am on vacation. I am releasing my need to be in control. My bags are checked, 9am flight, I gonna be high as a kite by then….(Sorry. Rocket man a la Capt. Kirk just flashed by:o) My bestie, James is poised to pick me up in Dallas, I have lunch plans with a great friend I haven’t seen in 4 years. My Holly, what can I say about her? I think her name was Delicious when I met her. Seriously… She was a wench named Delicious at Scarborough Faire, in Waxahachie, Texas. That was 1989. She was a massage therapist before I even contemplated being one. We kept bumping into each other over the next decade. Somewhere along the way, I think we finally gave in and became friends. Whenever I go back to Texas, I always have to have girl time with her.
On the plane, wahoo! I’m on my way. It’s my 20 year high school reunion, and I have no idea what I’m floating into. Ah well, I’m looking at this week away as a chance to detach for a bit and calm down. I’ve been pushing to achieve goals for the past eight years. First, it was completing college then it was my gastric bypass, recovery and maintenance, and then it was developing my own massage business. I’m beat. I take calls and texts at all hours. I’m always attending mixers, the LB Roller Derby, sports events, marathons, etc… I have a great pool of friends that I exercise/play with, and all the other various bits ‘n’ bobs surrounding my life. It consumes my time. I find myself worrying about getting to the next activity before I’m done doing the activity I’m at. This includes fun lunches with friends. I’m distracted, I’m nervous, and some days I just feel completely blah. I know that is life, but I also know it is me giving into being a worry wart, instead of just rolling with it, and enjoying the mega cool life that I’ve carved out for myself. I’m really searching for that Zen smile that the Dali Llama has all the time. The universe tends unfold as it should. I need to trust that.
Well, I haven’t touched on working out or detox at all. I have been kind of squirrelly as far as my diet the past two weeks. I’m starting the 6 week cleanse again after I get back from Texas. I’m hoping to learn more veggie heavy recipes to get used to preparing instead of my usual heavy fare. I’ve played out my basalmic/rice wine vinegar recipes; I’m ready to learn some different flavor combinations. I managed to luck into trading with a farmer’s market manager who will bring me a grocery list of products for a massage. Fresh fruit, veg, bread, eggs, fish, hummus, figs and flowers, all for me!! See! The universe wants me to be healthy:o). I’m thankful, because one of my driving goals is to reduce the amount of money I spend in a month. I’m paying off credit debt, and I’ve promised myself I’m going to learn how to budget myself, and have healthy monetary habits as well as eating habits. If I’m driving this train, I’m not going to run it into the ground.
Like I said before: this year’s goal, organize, organize, organize. I’m still training for ANW. I have no idea if I can get my body up a 14ft wall, but I’m training for it. I ask Kim all the time if she thinks I can do it. She tells me she thinks that I can do anything given a year to train. I believe her. I have no major injuries, and I’ve recovered from any workout “ouchies”. I should be able to train up to it. I had a few breakthroughs since my last entry. I can do side plank arm lifts (turning to the side with hand behind head in side plank position, I can do a box jump on an 8 inch step, and I jumped on Lauren’s back and let her fireman’s carry me about 100 yards.
First: side plank for 90 seconds. Crazy talk! My delts burn, my upper abs are screaming and trembling, hell, my legs seem just along for the ride considering how much everything else is complaining. But I can do them now. Kim and I did plank, faced each other, and reached over to slap opposite hands, back and forth. Right then left, right then left, for 90 seconds a few days ago. I stayed up almost the whole time. There is nothing shameful in dropping out of a pose, as long as you get back up. I collapse, I curse, I shake and breathe heavily, but I always get back up. I often have to shake off the “I can’t do this!” moment, reset my body, flex my ribs to engage my core, and start over. Jumping rope makes me want to cry. I can do about 6-10 reps then I get tangled in the rope, or it hits me in the head, or I pee a little when I hit the ground and the embarrassment throws my step off. It’s humiliating. My inner adult starts shouting at my inner child. I’m mortified, and ashamed I can’t master as simple a task, as a child’s game like jump rope. It’s amazing to realize how much physical ability I’ve lost over the years. But also to realize how needlessly proud I am, and how uncomfortable I feel being humbled physically. That is why it is hard to get out when you’re extremely fat. You’re afraid of falling, of making a fool of yourself or even worse, becoming the world’s fool on youtube.
Second: the box jump. I cannot fully describe how difficult t was for me to take on the box jump. The other badasses in class do their box jumps on the benches surrounding the bandshell at the park. I did mine at one of the steps. I felt like my feet were concrete. I’m supposed to swing my arms, squat then burst upward and forward jumping off with both feet, and landing with both feet. I was petrified. I’ve fallen and twisted my ankles numerous times. The fatter you are the harder you fall. I’ve found different moments were fears instilled in me while I was fat seriously hinder my ability to do things now. I was really frightened standing in front of that step. I swung my arms and tried to leap. My feet stayed planted on the ground. I jerked up then down like I was in six inches of mud. Kim smiled at me patiently. I was the only one in class, so she was waiting until I actually achieved one box jump before she started the clock for 90 seconds. I tried about two more times before making a frustrated noise in my throat and walked away to compose myself. I can’t believe I was about to start crying like some little bitch on the biggest loser, but I was. That step represented everything normal I wanted to be. Who cares If I’d lost the weight, if I couldn’t move like I’d lost the weight. I went back to the step, and jumped. I landed solid with both feet. Kim gave me an “Alriiiight!” and high-fived me. Each time I jumped the fear was less, but I was still shaken by how frightened I was about doing it.
Third: the fireman’s carry. Mondays are partnered workouts at badass hour. One of the exercises was we leap on our partner’s back and they carry us about 100yards, then we switch places. I was scared to leap on Lauren’s back. All I could think was “Dear God, it’ll kill her”. Now, I had just spent five minutes chiding her to not worry about jumping on my back, telling her to be confident about it, that she wouldn’t hurt me blah blah blah. SO now I was the nervously giggling idiot afraid to jump. Hampered by unknown fears, which were partially that I had never imagined anyone could carry me, and I didn’t know how I was going to clamber onto her, because her hips were higher than mine. I jumped three or four times. The first few, my stomach was in the way, it kept getting caught on her butt while I was trying to leapfrog onto her back. Kim got to the point where she was like “Don’t worry about it, she can carry me” but Lauren believed in me. She told me to do it one more time. I hauled myself up. She said “Perfect” and started running! I felt like I was falling off the whole time. I giggled hysterically the whole time. I was embarrassed because I felt like I was so heavy. I was nervous and exhilarated, because I did it. I didn’t think I could and did it anyway. Thank you Lauren for pushing me.
That’s the hardest part of this journey. It’s all new territory for me. I never had an adult body that wasn’t morbidly obese. My distance gauges between me and the rest of the world are completely off. My ability to judge clothes that will fit me, spaces between cars I can walk through, and things I can climb, leap over, or lift is completely off. Every time I do something physically new, it’s like a child learning it. I’m petrified, frustrated, and excited all at once. It’s crazy making.
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