Tonight I met with my personal trainer. His name is Steve. When I saw him walking around the club prior to meeting him, I assumed he was shy and very dedicated. He is definitely dedicated, but he is passionate about what his job too. He does not to help people and the pay check is the bonus for doing what he loves. He is very outgoing and motivating. He is exactly what I need. Because I couldn't handle a shy or mean guy.
Meeting Steve was the only good night of my evening.
We talked about my current habits, my goals, and my expectations. I told him I wanted to be healthy. In the past, my plan was, "Well, if I want to lose weight I will just stop eating or binge." Now, I want my lifestyle to be like a health plan. I want to actively go to the gym and eat the right foods, which aren't available on the dollar menu. Sigh. Goodbye McDonalds, Hello Meijir Organics.
He asked if I had a goal date. And secretly I do. My wedding. But I didn't want to be that person who just loses weight for an event. I want to be that person who loses weight for myself.
"So, you mentioned you have a fiance. When is this wedding?!" Steve asked.
"May," I replied.
Just four months away.
Wow. I have my work cut out, I thought.
He laughed and then said, "So you dooo have a goal date."
So then I did a balance test and I was wobbling like a drunken fool. I truly think lack balance in my genetic make-up. But he said controlling my muscles and getting stronger will actually make me balance better. I'm up for the challenge.
Then came the moment of truth. The scale. The weight. My enemy and fuel for a serious addiction that has controlled much of my life.
"I don't want to look," I said.
"Well, then don't. I will write it down and you can look when you are ready," Steve said.
I looked. I knew I shouldn't have. Steve saw I looked too.
"This scale actually weights 5 lbs heavier, so if you step on that other scale you will get a more accurate answer, but this is hooked up to the machine that records all of your progress."
Progress, I thought. Well surely I can't get any worse than this. The scale said 224 lbs, which would be 219 on the "accurate scale."
Percentage of body fat was next. I said I didn't want to look again, but I did. I really should have never looked.
39.47% body fat.
"I take these things with a grain of salt," Steve said seeing my eyes swell up. "But this gives us a starting point."
And it does. This is the beginning of the end. Today marks the last day that I will ever see 224 on any scale. The only time I want to see that number is on a check with my name on it.
So I am reminding myself of the advice and support you have all given me. And it works a little bit, but I'm still pretty depressed and shocked. But more so, I think I am motivated. I think I am ready to become a better, healthier person.
I have dropped below the yellow line. If I continue down the path I am traveling, I will not be the biggest loser. Every week will be approached as a day dedicated as my last chance workout. I have this chance. I have to take it. I can afford the gym (barely). I can make time to go (even though some days its hard to drag myself there). And I can do it.
Thank you so much for your support and words of wisdom. You will never, ever know how much it means to me and how often I repeat what you say to me when I am sad and unmotivated.