Writing Post-Mortem

  

   Yes, the worst has happened.

  I *gulps* gained two lousy, filthy, degrading kilograms!!

  This is unbelievably retarded. I have changed my eating habits, gone to the gym at least 5 times a week, and considerably reduced my chocolate intake!! How did this happen??!!

   I seriously was at a loss for words last night when my trainers were giving me "the talk". All I wanted to do was cry, but instead I had to listen to their advice when I have heard it 20 different ways before. After they we're done I went to the locker room, sat down and tried to think. 

 Cue: my female trainer Samia (yep, I couldn't escape) followed by my friends (who paused their workouts, bless their hearts). Their concern just made me burst into tears. I haven't cried like that in a long time. "The Cry of Agony". I was really really disappointed to say the least! But I believe Aunt Flo (ie. time o' da month) had something to do with this... 

   ps. the link is a really disturbing video, albeit funny...

  I also felt like the last thing I wanted to do was workout. But I'm not like that. 

I cried my last tear and heaved my last sigh.  

I washed my face clean and patted it dry.

  That was an unintentional poetic verse, so I decided to upgrade it to italic status. I digress.

  Where was I? Oh yes, I spritzed my face with Deepsea Rose Water from Japan cuz I need Shu Uemura's reassurance during times like these; and I walked out that door onto the battle field. This is war: with Guns and Roses. 

    Captain Jet put me on a different program cuz apparently I'm not a cardio type of person ( coulda mentioned that before I did 10 km on the Crosstrainer!) Instead I'll be doing low-intensity but longer time blah blah, I couldn't focus on what he said I was strung out. But basically no more huff and puff for me.

 

     To calm me down, I chose the "Disney" playlist on my iPod. Yeah, cuz I'm a kid like that! I started out with the Main Street Electrical Parade to get me marching. Then as he increased the incline and speed I was transported to EPCOT, listening to the Illuminations soundtrack. After 45 minutes of sing-along songs I decided to leave as I couldn't stay anymore; also escaping the shame of aerobics. 

   I tried calling my BFF in England and I let it all out again. It was sad. I won't include details but mainly I said, " I'm tired of being this!" and "God, I never thought I'd be the girl crying on the side of the street!" Yeah, it was that pathetic. 

    Then I decided to plan my meals, because I wasn't utilizing all of my resources, namely my Cuisine Diplome. I can cook. I can cook tasty low-cal meals, and I just wasn't. Which sucks btw. 

So I head to the supermarché and pick up a wide variety of fruits and veggies, lean meat, and the new Shape magazine which features "Elaine" from Seinfeld on the cover. She's 48 and looks waaay hot! I took a moment to mentally spit on myself. 

    I knew this wouldn't be easy, but I didn't expect a blow like this from the start!

 I'm not gonna lie and be all, "Oh I'm more motivated than ever now!" Spare me. This effing sucks! But I still am determined, a little bit less, but I haven't lost momentum yet. 

Images: shape.com; makeupbag.net

The Day of Reckoning

It has finally arrived...the weigh in.

Tomorrow, my compatriots and I will step on a scale that will display a number that would determine whether I live or perish!! Ok no, not really. But it is indeed the weigh in. We're not supposed to eat or drink ANYthing for 2 hours prior to the gym; which is where the "scale of doom" awaits...

   It is not your average scale. No, sir. This device prompts you to stand shoulder width apart, clutching what seems to be two Nintendo Wii-like baton's and remaining perfectly and utterly still while judgemental beeps are emitted from that confounded contraption. 

  They start out slow, and then gain momentum... till they finally stop. And all the while it's like they're saying, "You" *beep* "big" *beep* "fat" *beep* "tub" *beep* "of" *beep* "LARD!" *beep beep beep beep*.

Those few seconds feel like an eternity!

   Then...a paper is printed. Yes, the shame! It's on the record! Everything! Your...weight. Your...fat count. Some other fancy calculations like, Skeletal Muscle Mass, Body Balance, Upper body to Lower body proportion, tout! And as if that's not all, it even gives you a chart mapping out your life pattern. It goes, Normal, Alert, Risky..and God forbid, Very Risky.

   When I started, I was at Risky. That's a darn shame cuz I'm only 21. That means that if I continue with my lifestyle, (hello epicure of the world!) and without exercise (sloth to end all slothfulness), I'll be a (big, horrendous, dumb, inconsiderate) fool!

   So I hope that I live though tomorrow to write a more concise update on my gymnastic endeavor.