Wednesday, January 11, 2012

The Word 'Ranch' Suddenley Means More Than A Kind of Salad Dressing

Daniel is eight months old. Somewhere along the five month mark, I decided that I was done carrying baby weight.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not the kind of gal who gets all bent out of shape because I can't wear my favorite pair of jeans from high school. I opted out of that size as soon as I pushed out that first baby and my hips informed me that they were comfortable with their new shape, thankyewverymuch. Four more kids down the road, I have a goal in mind and it's not pre-baby size.

So after I made my decision to lose the weight, I did what I typically do; I thought about it and procrastinated a little and wondered how to go about achieving my goal. I'm not exactly a self starter or a stick to it-er when it comes to exercise. I need support. I need somebody to expect me to be there. I don't care if they are better than me (which is pretty much a given) or a little behind me, so long as they walk the road with me.

Or at least don't leave me so far in their wake that I choke on the dust.

As I was pondering the situation, a little email landed in my inbox from Living Social. I do love me a deal, people. And this one was for one month of Adventure Boot Camp. So I bought it! And then I informed my friend Jennifer of the deal and begged her to do it with me.

I'm really a wallflower and all those unfamiliar faces would have sent me straight to fetal position and thumb-sucking.

We looked at our schedules and picked January as our starting month. This worked out well for me as I could happily eat my way through the holidays and also procrastinate some more.

Now mind you, this is the first week, so I have a grand total of two classes under my hopefully-soon-to-be-smaller belt. We meet on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

At 5:30.



That's early, people. Really early. Especially for a woman who luxuriates in her bed until 8AM most days. (read most days as every day except Sunday, when we have to have the family at church by 9)

My body is having issues more with the hours I'm demanding of it than the rigors I'm putting it through. But there are some muscle soreness issues, too. Yesterday as I was getting Daniel out of bed for the morning and bringing him downstairs, I made it down about three steps before I realized that I might very well be jeopardizing his sweet little life by carrying him any farther. I totally called in Thomas for back up.

It's the first time, even through five pregnancies, that I have truly wished for a rancher style home.

Now Jennifer is a volleyball coach and she is making me look old and feeble. I'm trying to not let my delicate ego be totally bashed, but the fact is she's running circles around me. AND she's coordinated. It's only been two days and I've already lost count of how many times she's corrected me or re-positioned me so that I'm doing things right.

This is why I don't dance, folks. A girl has got to know her limits. Mine are walking and chewing gum.

1 comment:

Vanessa said...

Girl, I hear ya! Don't give up!