Tag Archives: trainer

I Miss Fried Chicken

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So the Thursday before last was September Birthday Cake Day at work, and by the Grace of God and the Sweet Baby Jesus, I was OFF yesterday. Nothing tastes better than buttercream frosting and publix bakery birthday cake. Except, maybe fried chicken.

I miss fried chicken.

Most importantly, I miss the smell. My schoolteacher friend Kevin told me the funniest story once about one of his kindergarteners: he was working with them to teach the 5 senses, and asked each kid to think of soemthing they really like and they would talk about how they experience it with all 5 senses. One little chubby 5 year old said “I love my mama’s fried chicken!” Here’s how she used the 5 senses to describe how much she loved it:

  1. The smell of it sizzling in the pan
  2. The taste of hot chicken on her tongue
  3. The sight of it getting rolled in flour, fried and puto n her plate
  4. The touch of it’s crispy skin
  5. The sound of it frying in oil

When he told me this story, I remember laughing my ass off and thinking “what a little fatty!!!” Now I am kinda reminiscing on chicken the same way.

Don’t get me wrong. During this challenge, I have discovered a lot of foods and recipes that taste sooo good and don’t make me feel bad for even wanting them. Yet nothing replaces the deliciousness of southern fried chicken, fresh out of my dad’s or Grandma Delores’s cast iron frying pan. My nutritionist says that there’s oven-fried chicken that you can make that will give you the same enjoyment of fried chicken without all the fat or calories. I don’t believe that for a second. That’s like trying to say that turkey burgers are just as good as a hamburger, or that turkey bacon tastes as good as bacon bacon. It doesn’t – while turkey bacon is perfectly fine, to say that in any way, shape or form can it can replace the delightfully savory and salty sensation of bacon is foolish and flat out mean.

Speaking of turkey bacon, the BBE (best boyfriend ever) and I had a pretty bad-assed breakfast sandwich yesterday involving turkey bacon. I’d sworn off the stuff after eating some at my parent’s house (neither of my sisters will eat pork now – I feel sad for them missing out) and later watching “Modern Marvels” on the History Channel where they show how they make turkey products. You DON’T even want to know how they make turkey bacon or ground turkey or turkey sausage. I mean seriously, I could have gone the rest of my life without seeing that.

Getting back to the sandwich: it consisted of 2 egg whites, a slice of provolone cheese, 2 slices of turkey bacon all on a cinnamon-raisin english muffin, toasted. It was EPIC and only 288 calories, NO trans fasts, less than 700 mg of sodium and only 8 g of sugar. We were both surprised at how good it tasted all together!! No butter, no jelly, honey or anything. I would eat it again, and definitely recommend it to anyone that is trying to eat healthier, still get in a hearty breakfast and remembers the big Southern-style breakfasts that started of eggs, sausage and toast.

 

On a completely un-related note, I WILLINGLY took a spinning class on Saturday. My butt bone is still bruised from taking the class, but honestly, while you’re huffing away on that biek so many other parts of you hurt and burn that you completely forget how miserable that seat is. Thankfully the room was darkened so no one was really focusing on anyone else, and no one saw my baldly pedalling my way through my pain. I was on the second row behind this little whippet of an older man that was HARD CORE about spinning – man had the shorts, the shirt and the special spinning shoes that lots of people wear. I made it my business to try and keep up with him, but finally fell behind on the 5th track which was the mountain track. My mountain number three, my legs were just DONE. The instructor said “add another turn!” and I said “No!”. I kept pedalling though, and did what I could.

 

I have to say, the difference in how I felt this time compared to the first time I took spinning is monumental. The first time, whenever they told us to stand and pedals, my legs were shaking so badly I simply couldn’t go it. This time, I grunted and growled and tore right through it. I followed that little old man all over my imaginary Appalachian mountains, pedaling hard, taking every turn of difficulty and working my slowly shrinking butt cheeks off. I felt like a rockstar!!! As much as I don’t like spinning I will be back… the rush after completing a serious tough class like that is becoming addictive.

 

These pats few weeks have been hard – I’m not losing weight as fast as the guys, and I just feel like I’m failing at this challenge.  I’ve let their weight loss accomplishments overshadow my own, and sow doubts into my head. My trainer, my family, friends and BBE keep constantly reminding me that losing the weight in a paced, healthy way is the past way to ensure that I will keep it off. Everybody loses weight at different rates. I haven’t been lost 20 or 30 pounds; I’ve only lost 10, but I’ve gained muscle, and endurance and the ability to finish a spinning class without fear that I’d collapse into a ridiculous tragic heap. Maybe I win the competition, maybe I don’t. I do know one thing: this doesn’t stop for me once the challenge it over. I want to keep doing this. It’s always seemed like it was too hard to do. Let me tell you something: keeping up with that little spinning man was HARD, but I did it. After walking out of that spanning class, I felt I put that stuff behind me and was ready to just focus on ME and getting fit.

Getting through something that hard got me motivated to take on other things I’ve always wanted to do, but just thought were beyond my abilities – like gardening. Weeding and mulching the front yard is a chore that’s been on my “I need to do this” list for months… literally months. When my mom visited a few months back, she suggested starting out gardening slowly, with plants I can handle and care for easily. She suggested the “Knock Out Rose” a hardy little rose plant. So… feeling all bad ass after taking on spinning and getting over my mountains, I bought my first Knock Out Rose and trowel:

Who says that working out only helps you lose weight? I feel like I can take on anything!!!! I still miss fried chicken, but I’m no longer missing out on life.

 

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Suck ’em Up Panties and Masochists

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Every big girl has a pair… or in my case, two.

I am referring to the suck ’em up panties… I wear them not just because they’re a little slimming, but all to smooth out my “silhouette”… or whatever. Regardless of the case, they became an addiction for me, something that made me feel just a little bit better about myself.

I can’t remember any time in my adult life when I didn’t have a pair. I’ve worn them everywhere. My second date with Boyfriend I remember jumping ten feet everytime he touched me for fear, he’d notice the heavy duty under pinnings.

I’ve worn suck’em up panties to the gym, to work, to da club, to the buffet. I have even considered wearing them to the beach but discarded the idea for fear of waterlogged panties dragging me into the sea.

Since I started the challenge 3 weeks ago, I have worn my suck’em up panties approximately 4 times. At first because I was so sore and slow from those first gym workouts that I didn’t want an extra layer between me and getting to the bathroom. Now that my “number” is out there for the world to see, courtesy of Orlando Magic TV, I’ve realized, I have nothing to hide anymore. In some ways it’s liberating to be released from the spandex, but also scary. The pressure is on, and I am having a hard time seeing results.

I’ve spoken to Trainer from Hell (as I’ve renamed my trainer) about this, and she assures me that eventually the work will pay off. I guess I just keep waiting to wake up and be a completely different looking person, and that’s not the case. It’s still hard to accept that this is a journey, not a quick fix destination. I am literally reminding myself of this daily – it’s almost become an affirmation.

Hell Trainer is really good at reminding me of that fact, and helping me keep my morning eating habits in check. I called her a sadist last week based on my theory that trainers essentially get paid to torture people. She laughed and accepted it as a compliment. She’s clearly disturbed, but an important part of Team Sunburnt Peach that helps keep the whole campaign running.

And this IS a campaign – a campaign for a new way of living and thinking about my health. I could never do this effectively alone, I’m a desperately social creature that needs to have people around me. 🙂 It’s true – and embracing that fact has made it easier to handle the outpouring of support I’ve received, from the sincerely absurd to the hilariously overzealous. Team Sunburnt Peach helps me keep my sense of humor and is also the people to whom I’m accountable to, win or lose. Team Sunburnt Peach includes everyone reading this post.

Every campaign has it’s bumps in the road. Two weeks ago I went all out and re-vamped my eating habits, then got frustrated when things didn’t just turn around immediately. I drove myself crazy last week checking the scale constantly to see if I’d lost anything, getting excited when the scale went down and then slumping into a depression when the weight went up a pound or two, and accepting defeat when one of the other guys had lsot 10 pounds already.

This week I decided to focus on me and keep my blinders on, and my view straight ahead at my goal – to  lose the pounds. Still, they slip off every once and a while, and all I see are people succeeding faster at they’re goal, and I start to wonder, what am I doing wrong??

One of the trainers suggested that I not keep focusing on the numbers, but remember that I am doing all the right things, and the weight will come off. She said that one of the biggest ways to tell a difference is seeing it in my clothes.

Tonight while I was picking out what to wear tomorrow, I came across one of my many Closet Enemies: a pair of black pants that I’ve never been able to wear because I couldn’t zip them up. For grins and giggles I just thought I’d try them on. If anything, I thought, how far up I’m able to zip them up (or not) is a good gauge of where I’m going.

Um. how about I zipped those pants ALL THE WAY UP?? Whacka waaa?? I ZIPPED THEM UP!!!!! UP! I AM GOING TO WEAR THEM TOMORROW!

What can I say? I cried. I zipped up those pants and stood there in shock and frickin’ teared up in my closet, staring at myself in the evil enemy pants… that actually kinda made my butt look GOOD.

I am finally starting to see results! Well maybe I don’t, but my pants do. It’s a tiny step but one more pair of pants in my closet that I don’t see as an enemy.

And I wasn’t even wearing my suck’em up panties. Imagine that.

Trainer from Hell – oops, I mean Boyfriend

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Why is it that as soon as you share with people that you’re losing weight it’s like you’re opening yourself to everyone’s opinions about everything fitness related, from sports bras to fiber???

I think it’s a convuluted way of showing support. Granted, cornering me at the door when I walk back into the office to ask me what I had for lunch is one heck of a way to show support…

I’ve listened to advice about fiber, stretching, workout frequency, sleep, flavored water vs/ non-flavored water, and the merits of hot yoga vs. cold yoga. One of my friends even took away my brownie!!!!! I take it all in stride with good humor though because I know it comes from a good place.

Or at least I DID… until Boyfriend decided to work out with me this weekend.

It all started with an epic fail on the part of my trainer – she cancelled on me at the last minute Saturday morning, leaving me at loose ends. Boyfriend thoughtfully stepped in to help me, suggesting that I workout with him during his routine.

What I remember most is sweat. And crying. And whining. And yelling expletives at Boyfriend every 5 seconds. I honestly can’t repeat here the hateful things that I yelled, for fear that WordPress will like, DELETE my blog. Seriously. It was pretty bad.

After collapsing into a perspiring heap (Southern girls don’t sweat darling, they perspire) and recovering from the workout from hell, I snapped when he told me I’d have to wait to have breakfast until AFTER we swam laps in the pool. This plan to wait to eat put the Trifecta of Evil into serious danger (I turn into a raving psychopath when I’m hungry, hot and tired all at the same time. I’d previously warned him. If he didn’t bother to heed the care instructions when taking on the Sunburnt Peach package that’s not my problem).

All told I recovered quite nicely from the miserable Saturday workout. Then Sunday came around and he made me do it again.

He kept telling me that my trainer would be even harder on me than he was!

By the time we were done, not only was there perspiration, crying and swearing, I was even swearing at the trainer on the program we were using as well as Casey the Roomie who was just an innocent bystander. I flipped him the bird – twice.

When Monday rolled around I was in PAIN. It hurt to sit, stand, breathe or scurry to the bathroom and pee. I whimpered while walking to the kitchen to make my cheerios and grunted everytime I lowered myself onto a chair or my toilet. I toddled around the office all day like I’d have a severe anal probe at the airport. People laughed. hmph.

After a weekend of training with Sgt. Meanie-Pants Trainer from Hell, I was flat out frightened of what my workout with my actualy trainer would be like. By the time I arrived at the gym, I was almost shaking in my shoes. Visions of Drill seargents blowing whistles were stuck in my head donned my sports bra and tennis shoes.

Ironically, today was not too bad. I say that with my fingers crossed, knowing that I will be seeing trainer lady at least twice a week for the next 8 weeks. The workout was challenging yet well paced, and she did a great job of explaining the whys of what I was doing.

I’m still sore, but no longer fearful that my trainer will channel the drill seargent from hell. I walked like the reluctant cowboy all day, but still felt pleased with my progress.

I can now sit on the toilet without falling. 🙂