Well, the show is officially off the road. Scale Back Alabama ended today and -surprise, surprise- I didn’t win anything. Not even a consolation prize and I damn sure could’ve used one of those. Actually, from what I understand, the selection process for the prizes was a series of random drawings for which I didn’t qualify anyway because I forgot to go weigh-in before the deadline because I was too busy trying to take my kid to Legoland that week because he was on Spring Break. Excuses, excuses, oh how many do I have? Ha!
Now, if I had dropped about 25 pounds, I probably would’ve remembered to run by the gym before I left for Legoland, you know what I mean? But maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I would’ve forgot either way. Plus, I haven’t ever won a drawing of any kind at any point during my whole damn life so I guess it doesn’t even matter because I didn’t lose 25 pounds anyway. I know, I know, surprise, surprise again, right? Because I am SO great at staying on track and being consistent and not getting pissed off and calling Domino’s and reaching my goals. Wait, I am good at two of those things I just mentioned. Shit, what am I even talking about?
Okay, but I do have some good news. Maybe even great news because I did manage to LOSE FIVE WHOLE POUNDS during that whole Scale Back Alabama business. Yee haw, suckers! I’m excited because that is such a wonderfully great improvement over losing the same flippin’ two pounds over and over and over going on 26 million times. I’ll say it again: Yee haw! I lost five pounds doing The Fat Girl Hustle.
And I’m really pleased with myself because I actually did it right –which was probably why it finally damn worked a little bit. And, as bad as doing it right hurt my feelings (and trust me, my feelings were in pain), I said NO to cookies, doughnuts, sweet tea, pizza, beer, and tater chips. I did that for two whole weeks which is nothing short of a world wide best ever accomplishment for this Fat Girl. The best part is that I lived! I lived! I lived although there were times when I was surly thought I would die because I do not like doing without!
I did drink a LOT of wine to help me though that two weeks -speaking of which, have y’all tried Rex Goliath Free Range Red? I have no idea what the free range has to anything, but that Rex Goliath Red is the business. Their Chardonnay has a sticker on it that says it won 50 gold medals so I gave that one a go, too. The end result was that I got drunk as a bicycle and passed out on the couch so if I had a gold sticker, I would certainly give it to Rex Goliath Chardonnay so it could have 51 gold medals. Okay, what was I talking about again?
The Fat Girl Hustle! That’s right! In addition to torturing myself by eating healthy, I started running. Like really running. I have my husband (who lost 20 pounds in Scale Back Alabama) to thank for that motivation because we had a conversation that went something like this:
Me: Oh God! This is awful! I’m miserable! I’m such a fucking loser! I’m never going to lose any weight!
Him: You should do what I do.
Him: Do you want to go to the gym tonight?
Me: Aw, hell no! I’m in a horrible mood. I have got to lose some weight or I’m going to go crazier than I already am. *Insert 15 to 20 minutes of bitching* Can you run down to Domino’s and get us a couple pizzas?
Him: You don’t like tuna?
Him: You know what else I do?
Me: What? Please tell me it doesn’t involve that damn canned salmon in there in the cabinet.
Him: No, but that stuff is delicious.
Me: What, then?
Him: Well, I don’t stop exercising when it starts to hurt. I just keep going. That’s when you lose some weight.
Me: What? Why the hell would you do that? My body hurting is my cue to quit before I DIE! What are you even talking about? That’s crazy!
Him: I’m just telling you that’s how you can lose some weight. Keep going after it starts hurting and drink a lot of water.
Me: I can drink a lot of water.
Him: Just try it. Trust me.
So I did. I trusted him because he has, after all, lost over 50 pounds since last October. Obviously, he knows something. So, I went to the gym that night and I ran a half a mile. Yeah, it hurt it like hell. Yeah, I thought I was going to die a thousand different deaths, but I just kept chugging along at my signature turtle warp speed. Which sucked. It really did. Especially since I’d been saying NO to all that good food that always puts me in a good mood (aka: my medication) for an extended amount of time. But I didn’t die and, when I was done, I was pretty damn happy with myself.
Two weeks and several half-a-miles later, I went to the gym and ran a whole mile and that’s when it happened. That’s when the scale finally moved past that terrible, horrible, awful first two pounds that always, always, always comes back to hang on to my fat beautiful ass.
I was so beside myself that I signed up for a one mile Fun Run with my kid, which was my main goal in starting all this crazy shit to begin with. Sure he beat me by a good, solid five minutes (and won 3rd place overall) and a number of other little kids crossed the finish line well before me, but that was okay because I was out there. I ran the whole mile without stopping and somehow managed to finish in front of the walkers which was a big part of my goal once I took off. Don’t come in behind the walkers when running. I made up that rule and I stuck to it.
There were police officers at every turn we made who were very nice and encouraging and I told the one at the last turn that somebody needed to invent a half-mile run and call it the More Fun Run. He thought that was pretty funny, as did I.
Of course, after the race, I went back to my old habits for the rest of the weekend. Pizza and cold beer? Yes, please! And lots of each. But I went back to the gym on Monday and kept running. Did it get more fun? Hell, no. Did it still hurt? Hell, yes! But I just kept going and then last week, I did something I haven’t done in, literally, twenty years.
I did a 5K. I say “did” because “combination of walking, crawling, crying, and running” just seemed like too much information.
I finished in 48:15 and was so very pleased with myself that it was less than an hour and I did not get passed by any walkers while I was running. Yes, I do realize that I need to work on my goal setting not to mention my celebration techniques, but hey, I do what I can when I can. Finishing without getting ran over by the patrol car following the walkers at the end of the race is a big deal to me right now, okay? I think I’m doing pretty a damn fabulous job of moving my fat beautiful ass in a positive direction and I encourage everybody I know to be equally self-congratulatory every chance they get. Celebrate! Because you know we’re ALL all about that Bass.
It took me two full days to recover from that 5K. I took a long nap that Saturday afternoon and another one on Sunday and it took me a few days after that to get back to the gym, but eventually, I went. I’ve learned that the sauna is my friend and I plan to run another 5K before the weather down here gets too hot. And I’m excited about that. So if you’ve been thinking about running, just do it! Get out there and shake that ass for the whole world to see. It will make you feel like a Rock Star -one who has been hit by a bus, no doubt, but a Rock Star nonetheless!
And so I’ll keep y’all posted on the Fat Girl Hustle as I chug along at a snail’s pace in hot pursuit of my next five pound weight loss goal.