As part of a decade-long mission to re-design my entire life, dramatically shrinking my equator width waistline sat at the top of my to-do list. Coming into this week, I had completed 98 workouts in a 20-week span of time that taught me more about myself than high school ever did.
But as I contemplated the fear I would likely encounter during Week 21, I knew that the reality would be scarier and more challenging than my thoughts. That’s because I was taking my workouts to a different level in the new week. I’d be working with a pair of personal trainers for the first time in this journey, and I knew they were going to kick my ass.
I don’t lack self-confidence or courage. I am however self-conscious and insecure, and exposing that vulnerability to others, is one of the strongest things anyone could do. Having said that, I’ve always possessed comedic sensibilities, and I often speak about myself in ways that sound cruel to others but are just normal shit for me.
Being the size of a small airport would make anyone stick out like an adult woman in R. Kelly’s bedroom. That’s one of the reasons I have taken on such an ambitious goal. For the first three weeks of this journey, I completed gym workouts three times per week.
Beginning in week four, I upped my efforts to five gym workouts per week. This wasn’t about losing weight; it was about establishing the habit of being someone who exercises consistently.
After so many weeks, I knew that I had to graduate to a higher level of exercising so my personal growth would continue. My workouts prior to this week consisted of walking and shooting hoops, but introducing some form of weight training was inevitable.
I made it through my 99th workout on Monday, but my mind continued to drift towards Tuesday and Thursday. Those were the days I’d have my first ever sessions with my trainers who are highly skilled in combat sports and are obviously fit as hell.
Ironically, my first “trainer guided” workout was my 100th in 21 weeks. That milestone was great but the fear of impending pain ran through my mind. Stepping far outside my comfort zone, I asked my trainer to use my phone to film me while I lifted weights on a machine.
As a porker, it’s highly uncomfortable to be filmed or snapped in full-body angles. But as much as I hated it, I needed the footage for my fitness Facebook group (which is private). I also plan on using the footage for my upcoming personal growth.
My thoughts after that session were full of promise and optimism. My trainer instilled a lot of confidence in me, and his intense belief in himself to help me get to where I need to be was the best part.
As much as I didn’t feel up to it, I managed to complete my normal Tuesday workout a few hours later. I woke up the next day with very sore arms and shoulders, and a reduced resolve to go to the gym for that day’s workout.
But I did it anyway.
Thursday was my next session with a personal trainer. That guy was intimidating and asked me to do things that I wanted no part of doing. That’s how I knew I was exactly where I needed to be.
I asked him to film me for a part of my workout, just as I’d asked my other trainer. The resulting video of me was again horrible because it showed the real me, full-body and extremely overcaloried.
Us hefty folks have a tendency to run or hide from cameras unless we are the ones taking our photos. That’s because we will make sure that we look as presentable as possible; minimized chins, almost never full-body, and use flattering angles.
Obviously, I know that not every fat person possesses the same self-consciousness. I also understand that even some slim people avoid photos. I’m speaking generally, but it’s very common amongst the porker community.
I was grateful when the session ended, and I dreaded my other workout of the day. I was sore and mentally exhausted which again weakened my resolve.
I did it anyway.
Today was the final day of the week and again, I battled resistance all the way until I stepped off the treadmill. Once that glorious moment happened, my 106th workout of the past 21 weeks was done.
It was my seventh workout of the week, and instead of feeling like a badass, I simply felt like the elephant in the room! Make no mistake, I never throw myself any pity parties, I just find it amusing how that phrase goes perfectly with my situation.
I’m not some hypersensitive whoa-is-me basket case who crumbles over jokes at my expense. I am not a literal elephant, but I’ve been referred to as one enough times that I genuinely find it hilarious.
There’s no lesson or takeaway that I’m offering here. I’m just excavating my mind for my actual thoughts on this physically and emotionally grueling week.
That being said, I will be happier than Donald Trump at a Klan rally in his honor if you actually find value or motivation in this story of mine.