Bowling for Fatties

Check, check--on the bowling and the weight training.

Bowling was a trip. I lost to a gaggle of little kids, but it was a lot of fun. I'm not sure it counts as exercise, but it's sure the hell of a lot more active than sitting around watching Netflix movies all day.

Poor Ruby. She got away from me during Adrienne's turn to bowl, and ran to her big sister just as Adrienne was pulling the ball back. Ruby caught Adrienne's bowling ball right in the eye. She has a little bruise on her cheek bone, and another one on her bone just under her eyebrow. I freaked out, but she's fine. Adrienne heard me scream her name and was able to lessen the impact, but not stop it all together.

That weight training program I'm doing is kicking my ass--in the good way. I added about five pounds to each of the exercises today (except for squats and lunges, which I not only can't use weights on, I also have to be a weenie and hold on to something while I do them or else I'll fall on my face.)

I got on the elliptical trainer afterwards and was able to push out a whopping five minutes. Then I felt like I might pass out. Two months ago I tried and couldn't do a minute, and that was fresh, so I'm improving. I read somewhere that you should up the resistance on the machine, because doing it on a 1 or 2 makes you go too fast and raises your heartrate up too quickly. I did a level 12 and was able to manage five, so maybe it's true. Maybe next time I'll try it fresh and see how many minutes I can manage so I have a real starting spot.

I was cooling down on the treadmill and this woman came next to me and said, "don't give up, it just takes baby steps."

I was mixed about that. I was happy to have someone talk to me, I'd love to make friends at the gym. This woman was my age, and she was nice enough. But for some reason, having her say that to me broke the spell that I sometimes manage to create when I'm working out. You know the spell, right? The one where my brain becomes convinced that I'm not really a fattie huffing and puffing away.

The funny thing is, contrary to what I read on other blogs, I've never been self-concious about working out. I don't feel weird wearing a swim suit at the Y, or lifting weights with the boys. I don't normally feel like anyone is noticing me as anything more than a woman trying to get in shape. But when someone says something--even when it's meant to be encouraging--it's like the fact that I really am at least fifty pounds heavier than anyone else there (including the men) comes into crystal clarity.

I'm not going to let that stop me. Won't be too long before I'm not the fat girl anymore.