|In case you were curious, I Googled 'pride' and came up with a bunch rainbows.|
I do love my gay pals, but that's not the object of this particular post.
There are things that are different about being 80 lbs smaller. For example, when squeezing through a small space, I always feel panic that there won't be enough room for me. When polishing my toes, I still assume it will be difficult and the task will make me become out of breath. I brace myself to bend down to pick up an item off of the floor, because I still feel like it will be difficult. Upon approaching an upward flight of stairs, there is always a fleeting moment of dread and panic. The good thing is that I generally have a sense of relief when I find that I can more easily squeeze through a small space, self-pedicures are a delight, and I can get up a flight of stairs in nothing flat. It's just taking time to get used to my new energy levels, my new abilities, my smaller body.
|Sometimes I like to get in touch with my|
inner rock star when I work out.
What you need to understand is that there were times in the past that I probably would have eaten the entire giant bag of candy (resulting in a second purchase of M&Ms or altogether foregoing stoplight treats). The difference with this moment was that I didn't feel like I was withholding anything from myself. I didn't feel deprived. I felt okay with not having any chocolate. In fact, the sorted M&Ms sat on my counter for several days and went untouched (by me, at least... my husband's sweet tooth is a whole other story) until it was time to make the treats (I didn't indulge at that point either). I allowed myself a small amount of dessert the day of the party, and I felt satisfied.
|There was a time that my sugar cravings were so intense,|
I would turn into a wretched beast until I had something sweet.
Our CrossFit coach is continually pushing us to work harder, to challenge ourselves, to get stronger. I appreciate that, and with the encouragement from him and my CF sisters, I feel like I am able to work harder, to challenge myself more each day, and I am definitely getting stronger. I will admit, many of our workouts make me cuss. I generally try to watch my mouth, but I turn into a sailor during our workouts of the day (WODs).
Today's workout pushed me to my physical limit. After a physically intense warm-up, our workout today was 'Karen'. Karen consists of 150 wall ball shots. I hate wall ball shots with an intense passion that burns deep in my core (not only do you have to get the weighted ball all the way up to the 90 foot ceiling <I might be exaggerating>, you have to squat down until your booty hits a marker set by our coach, who believes in my squatting abilities much more than I do). I nearly quit. At about 25, I had myself convinced I was pregnant and that I needed to stop this workout immediately (it was too much in my delicate condition). For the record I am not pregnant (I picked up an EPT on the way home). At 50, the ball hit me in the face. At 75, I thought I was going to die. At 100, I started to cry (seriously) and almost walked away. At 125, I was sure I was going to die (and told everyone "'Karen' is a b*%!@" -- I told you, CrossFit makes me have a potty mouth). The other girls finished minutes before me and I told myself that I should just give up. But that was my former fat girl talking to me. My CF sisters and coach cheered me on, counted with me and helped me get to the end. I completed the workout. I could barely walk and it took me 10 minutes 58 seconds, but I finished nonetheless. I was exhausted, I was wobbly, I was drenched in smelly sweat; but I was proud.
|This is not me. My squat marker was MUCH|
lower than where she's squatting.
I might be exaggerating.