While waiting patiently for some dentistry coverage war to fizzle out, I haven’t really known which of my harder hitting gonnas to work on. Sadly, I haven’t the money for most of them. Others of them need tons of preparation, both mentally and physically. I pondered over my little list, which hasn’t grown at all – oops? – and realized I’ve already done one of them.
I know, what? Like why haven’t I been toasting champagne to myself in celebration?! Why am I not lying on a chaise lounge, being fed grapes by lots of admirers from the far ends of the earth? Because I didn’t even realize this gonna was on my list. My bad.
See, I’d kind of slipped it in there in this extremely vague fashion. The bullet “Bad health” with some indecipherable-to-everyone-but-me notes parenthesized beside it could mean a million things. Do I want bad health? Is it the name of a shitty little rock band I love?
Though I’m sure you’ve picked up on my myriad of health issues, and the anxiety it’s caused me, and the hatred for most doctors I now have, and my inability to do anything I want, AND… anyway, I digress. The point is, I made it a gonna goal to FIX what I deemed as my “bad health.” While I have miles to go since I was so deep inside the pit that is rock bottom, I’m happy to say I’m now bivvying on the mid-side of that pit. Inadvertently, of course.
It all started after a holiday season of overindulgence. J and I were tired of looking at our newly transformed bodies, despite the fact my mouth still watered thinking about all of the awesome food we’d ingested over the months prior. We decided to do something about it, and it didn’t take us too long to arrive at the inevitable conclusion of gym membership.
We signed up in February, and though we’ve had our fair share of obstacles here and there, we’ve done pretty well keeping up. We aren’t there everyday (yet), but I can see the changes, and oh man, can I feel ’em.
The fact I have to pace myself due to my ever-sensitive heart gets me weird, judgy looks from gym snobs, but I don’t really care because I’m feeling so much better. I’ve found what works for me and will continue to work at it ’til I find the optimal regimen. Oh, and just because I pace myself, Tapout Frat-King, doesn’t mean I haven’t lost almost 20 pounds, toned my muscles, increased my strength, and decreased my heart issue flare-ups. Suck on that, penis breath.
In addition to working on strengthening my body inside and out, I’ve been trying really, really hard to kick my sugar addiction. The one food I crave all day long is ice cream, and I could literally eat an entire quart without feeling regret or nausea. Not only did I want to move off of my toning plateau, I wanted to stop waking up with the shakes for birthday cake every morning. I still nab some sugar on special occasions, but otherwise, I keep Stevia in my cupboard and only take shots of juice instead of my favored Big Gulp serving.
So with the help of some lean protein, a pretty nifty little gym, a distinct lack of sweets, and cutting out all of that gross-but-I-love-it food I randomly crave, my once fragile little body is actually kind of normal again. I can run sometimes! I can help my boyfriend lift huge boxes without straining! I could challenge Michelle Obama to an arm off! (She would win, but I’m almost there, thanks to her inspiration.) Rawr.