When I try to remember a time my stomach didn't resemble a mash of raw dough, the best I can come up with is being nine years old and swimming in a three-foot, air-pump-dependent swimming pool featuring pictures of boys and girls and sand castles plastered to the side. During the summer months my sister and I lived in the pool, if not ours then someone else's, playing games like Marco Polo and Tag and Mermaid Dying At Sea, with an occasional time-out for freeze pops or fried chicken. Who has time to develop a belly bump when you're supposed to be rehearsing your last will and testament, which also includes final words for your husband so he'll remember after your passing that there is indeed beauty in living, even though his beloved has joined that great big aquarium in the sky?
Then suddenly it's seventh grade, and the midsection you never had to worry about has mysteriously taken on the silhouette of a capital B, not unlike the B destined to plague your engagement book fourteen years later. One vertical buttock below the belt and one above the belly button.
Last Monday Luke and I signed up for memberships at our local Y. We've talked about joining a gym for months and checked out Cardinal Fitness back in January, but the place was the size of a closet and they wanted fifty bucks a month as well as sixty bucks up front, for each of us, just for signing up, so we could alternate between their treadmill and elliptical, because God forbid they offer any sort of class, because that would require actual personal interaction with staff. Hard as it was to turn down that stellar offer, turn it down we did. And proceed to sit on our @$$e$ until we were bored enough and bloated enough to look again. At the Y, not only are we free from registration fees and binding contracts, we also have access to every branch in the city.
We each had wellness orientations on Tuesday, where an employee with muscles the size of your head familiarizes you with the equipment and demonstrates how to adjust each machine's settings to your specific height and weight. Wednesday was our first official workout session, and so far we've made it in every day except yesterday, our only full day to entertain Samantha and Dan.
I've tried working out before. Back in my Weight Watchers days, I jumped around in my living room to Richard Simmons with the best of them, flirted with jogging and all of that. But I never kept with it, and I attribute it to the fast pace of my life at the time. If I wasn't working, I was studying, and if I wasn't studying, I was with Luke, and if I wasn't with Luke I was ... well, I don't know what I was doing, Rensselaer wasn't that exciting of a place, but suffice it to say I occuped myself somehow. And then I moved to Indianapolis, where adjusting to my new job and living space was a big enough challenge, and then Luke joined me, and we learned how to co-exist in six hundred square feet, and then we planned our wedding, and then we got married, and then: Nothing. No school, no more volunteering (Annie "graduated" from her treatment facility in March and has fallen out of touch with me since returning home), no more wedding plans. Just the two of us trying to figure out ways to enjoy ourselves and each other. The Y fit in perfectly with our plans. It's an activity we can commit to together while reveling in some quality alone time. And hopefully unearth a smokin' body in the process.
Looking back, I can't pinpoint the behaviors that led to the development of the pooch I have now. Yeah, I pigged out on junk food, but I was also pretty active. I danced in musicals and played soccer and spent summers walking the entire length of Navy Pier to deliver fresh pretzels to carts along the strip. I'm the only one of my siblings with this particular body shape, just like I'm the only one who inherited my father's curly hair, and though some of my sisters might protest, say they have their own shaping up to do, I've seen all of them in swim wear. I know the truth.
But I'm finally in a place where I have the proper means and motivation to do something about it. I want to transform my capital B into a respectable lowercase l. I want to wear a fitted tee shirt without pulling on the hem of my top. I want to wear a two piece, and I want to OWN it. And it would be nice to walk up a flight of stairs without wanting to take a nap halfway through.
It's not about low self-esteem; logically I know I look fine, and my health is fine, and everything is generally fine. It's just that fine's not enough anymore. Logically, I know I'm capable of better.
Yeah you! Congrats on hitting the Y so often this week. Sounds like fun.
That's a great picture of Dan & Samantha. I hope you guys had a great time.
We will catch up soooooooon!
:0)
Posted by: Anonymous | July 24, 2006 at 03:15 AM
Keep up the good work but the head of our Y and another devoted person who worked out daily, both died suddenly....not to mention Yul Gibbons. Is that his name? The guy who only ate natural foods.
Not for nothin, but those large, heavy drinking, smoking, dessert eating folks seem to be around forever. LOL
Posted by: Penrick | July 24, 2006 at 11:44 AM
That's great, Bree. Good luck!!
PS - Didn't Karin ever get mad when you were jumping around to Richard Simmons in the apartment above her? The floors in that place are sooo old and creaky!
Posted by: Becky | July 24, 2006 at 03:45 PM
Sister, we are way better than "fine."
That's fabulous that you and Luke are going together. I'll make is much easier.
Oh, and when you do ROCK that bikini, you know we are going to need pictures. Right?
Posted by: Silly Hily | July 24, 2006 at 04:11 PM
Down with the pooch!
Wish I had something more inspirational to say, but that's all I can come up with right now.
Posted by: Britt | July 24, 2006 at 05:00 PM
Great work. Upper body one day and lower body the next day. That will produce results. However, don't think that a day off every now and then will hurt your progress. Rest is needed for growth. Keep up the good work.
Posted by: daddy d | July 25, 2006 at 12:33 AM
Great to hear...keep it up!
Posted by: butterflygirl | July 25, 2006 at 02:21 AM
I too have a B-gut. It runs in the family. Good for you, trying to get in shape. I wish I could commit to exercising.
Posted by: Fraulein N | July 25, 2006 at 12:04 PM
tummy is a bad word for me, good luck
Posted by: auntie betty | July 25, 2006 at 03:24 PM
Frema... congrats. Weight and ones physique is such a personal issue.
And if you want more from yourself, I have NO DOUBT you'll do it because you're one determined lady ... as I've experienced personally. :-)
Posted by: Number Twelve | July 25, 2006 at 04:31 PM
Good luck! Sounds like you're well on your way...
Posted by: Liz | July 25, 2006 at 07:04 PM
You know I love the wedding book post. I had to reread it and look at the pictures AGAIN. LOVE IT!
Good for you for being so motivated. I'm sure it will be much easier with Luke by your side at the Y.
And girl, you always have to OWN it. That's what puts the extra "T" in HOTT!
Posted by: Isabel | July 25, 2006 at 10:24 PM
You're so right Frema: it's a process. Life weighs on us...get it? ;)
Good for you for joining a gym! And...pst!...try hoodia. It's been 5 days and I've lost 3 pounds. Yay!
Posted by: Lena | July 25, 2006 at 11:32 PM
We've been to the Y several times now, and so far I have yet to hear anyone sing the Village People song. But I have to imagine that people who work there hate it.
Posted by: Luke | July 27, 2006 at 09:47 PM
I love you Breain and I'm proud of you! ;) I am SOOO sorry I have been such a slacker...my computer is fixed but I have not been on the computer nevertheless.
Posted by: Sambo V. | July 28, 2006 at 12:09 PM