My friends all seemed to have the same question after I got my tummy tuck:
How many sizes did you go down?!?
I mean, you’d have to lose at least two sizes when you have your stomach SURGICALLY REMOVED along with three liters of fat (yeah…you read that right,) wouldn’t you??
Not so much.
You see, my ass and thighs were the same size post-surgery, so there was no ‘down a size or two’ option for me. Instead, I ended up with the ‘pants are still too tight on my ass and thighs, and now I look like I have a dick because my muffin top’s gone’ option.
I’ve actually gained weight. Not in my stomach, mind you. My stomach is flat and pretty and I can now see my feet for the first since puberty. The problem is my ever-growing ass and thighs.
I didn’t realize how much of a problem they were until a few weeks ago when I went to a tanning bed (don’t judge me; I hardly ever do it, and I was preparing for my trip to Florida) and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I was getting dressed. I gasped audibly and felt the blood drain from my face. When did my ass and thighs get so…lumpy???
I bet those little tan chippies at the front desk don’t generally see people walk out white as ghosts.
As you may be aware, I hate exercise almost as much as I love food. So, it’s no secret where the extra pounds are coming from. Unfortunately, there comes a time in everyone’s life when they finally suck it up and start eating less and…ugh…moving more.
Is there an emoticon for crippling, agonizing devastation?
Because I have no fewer than 473 exercise-freak Facebook friends jamming up my news feed every day with their fucking exercise, weight-loss and marathon-training updates, I have become aware of apps like My Fitness Pal and C25K.
Side Note: I’m not bitter about your newfound love of exercise and your incredible weight loss. I’m really not. I swear to God I’m not. Please know that, just because I teach Sarcasm as a Second Language, I am not always being sarcastic. I am actually quite sincere about this: I am very proud of you! It’s just that I go to Facebook to have a little giggle, catch up with old friends, look at a few pictures and maybe get into an occasional political debate. I don’t go there to feel bad about myself. I know you don’t mean to make me feel bad about myself when you post how many miles you ran in 12 seconds, but you do. And I don’t think I’m alone. I think there are probably thousands of other fatties out there who also get winded just walking to the mailbox and would appreciate it if you would just post something about your new wart or how you stubbed your toe or that you’re bored. Yeah. We’d even rather read that.
But I digress.
For those of you who don’t know, MFP is a great little app (and website) that allows you to track your food and caloric intake (along with your calories burned through exercise) and C25K is a training app that prompts you to jog for increasing intervals of time until you are allegedly running a 5K in no time! Or five weeks. Or something like that.
I downloaded MFP last year and C25K about a month ago, but I haven’t really been ready to use either of them. Until today.
I don’t know why, but I woke up this morning knowing that I needed to start making changes. Unfortunately, we’re at the beach and I failed to pack a sports bra. Rather than make yet another excuse to ‘start tomorrow’, I brushed my teeth, put on a bra, and headed to Walmart in my pajamas (yoga pants and a t-shirt). Without washing my face or putting on make up. Because who am I going to run into at Walmart in Rehoboth Beach at 8:00 on a Saturday morning??
I grabbed my cart and was headed down the main aisle, desperately seeking the lingerie department, when I heard it.
I actually said that.
It was my fitness-obsessed, borderline manorexic broker and his adorably sporty JCrew wife. I’m pretty sure I weigh more than the two of them combined.
Did I mention that my hair was all kinds of curly and pulled up in a sloppy ponytail so as to highlight the HUGE SWATCH OF GRAY that has decided to grace my hairline in recent weeks? Or that my eyelashes are blond (read: INVISIBLE), rendering me with bulging frog eyes when I’m not wearing mascara???
Thank GOD they were in line and he was panicking because he didn’t know how to pay without her by his side (never mind that her purse was in the cart…men), so I was able to make a break for the sports bra section after just a few minutes of assaulting her with my appearance. Poor dear.
On my way home, I stopped at the grocery store and spent 20 minutes studying various low-fat cheeses (gag) so I could have some healthy snacks (ON VACATION), then headed home to start my workout regimen.
I was actually kind of excited. I can do this!, I thought to myself.
I turned on my music, clicked on the C25K app, and started walking. After about three seconds, C25K greeted me with a friendly Welcome!
I can do this!
I tucked my phone into my bra and, with a spring in my step, I started to walk. And walk. And walk.
Huh. That’s weird, thought I. I kind of thought I would be prompted to jog by now. Must be a warm-up period.
After about 15 minutes of no prompts, I became concerned about the moisture accumulating around my phone, so I decided to hold it in my hand. A few seconds later, it vibrated.
WTF?? I looked down, and saw that C25K had been prompting me all along, but only via text (I didn’t get any of the audio prompts). I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was because my phone was set to vibrate.
Do you think it was C25K telling me to just go home and have some pie??
Neither do I.
I don’t know why it happened, but I held it in my hand the rest of the way and jogged when it told me to.
And I wanted to die.
No, seriously. I am not built for that kind of movement.
But I did it. And because I had missed the first 15 minutes of prompts, I walked for an extra half hour after the program was finished.
When I got home, I jumped in the shower and stood there under the cool water, moaning as if I had just run a marathon.
It was definitely time to reward myself with some relaxation. I had only had one (fried) egg for breakfast, so I was hungry. I made myself a lunch of two slices of turkey and a bit of mustard rolled into a piece of provolone cheese. When I logged my food and exercise into the MFP tracker, it gave me an ‘encouraging’ message that, if I keep up the good work!, in only five weeks, I’ll STILL BE A FAT ASS.
I almost cried at the number displayed on the screen.
It was time to head to the beach, so I put on my bathing suit (sans t-shirt) and my trusty yoga pants (you know, so I don’t sustain a chub rub injury on the way there) and off I went.
I walked from my car to the sand to the shoreline, set up my chair, and sat there for a good 10 minutes before I realized that my right areola was exposed.
I need a drink. I wonder how many calories there are in an Orange Crush. Or three.