Hi everybody! Well – it had to happen, and while I was hoping it would have happened LATER, my second Thailand 20 Tuesday is a loss of 0 pounds. I’m exactly, to the .2, the same weight I was last week. This isn’t ideal BUT it’s better than yesterday’s weigh in, which was UP 2.2 pounds! After I got over my hissyfit, I did some reflection and here’s what I came up with:
1) I exercised, but not as much as week one. To keep consistently losing, I’ve noticed with the help of this blog I need to be doing at LEAST 30 minutes of cardio, four to five times a week plus other activity. Gotta do more! A workout I plan to do again this week is an hour of crazy high-impact Zumba (I sweat so much. It’s kind of gross, but hey, sweat is just your fat crying.) This is me after Sunday’s zumba class.
2) I did okay with food this week, but not as good as week one. I still tracked everything on MyFitnessPal, but I had a couple moments of weakness like when Matt’s parents were in town and the delicious basket of hot, fried tortilla chips was placed in front of me. Everything in my willpower just goes “POOF” and I’m like…
3) I should know better not to eat a salt bomb a couple days before weigh in. On Sunday, I made this yummy but CRAZY salty Dirty Rice Soup that I adapted from Everyday Food Mag. It called for 4 teaspoons of cajun seasoning and five cans of chicken broth. Even after I diluted with 4 cups of water, it was still sodium-centric. It was yummy though, but I can only imagine how much salt is swirling around my body, still! Is anyone interested in the recipe? If I post it up I’ll make it lighter on the sodium!
Dirty Rice Soup
So – a couple of key learnings this week. There is no room for small error… It’s gotta be, unfortunately, 99% on all the time. So – next week hopefully I can report some better news, but I won’t let this break me for week three. If anything, maybe next week will be a GIANT loss! I can be hopeful, right? How did your week go?
I sweat. A lot. Like to the point of “Hey now, heard there’s a water shortage in Southern California. Want some sweat?” Let’s get right to the point. Here’s a picture of me last night after an hour of boxing. We did these awesome drills called “suicides” where you take turns with your sparring partner and beat the bag in minute-long sessions – first uppercuts, then jabs, then hooks. It was badass.
After 55 minutes of pure cardio - I sweat!
See that dark smudge on my shirt? That’s sweat. See how my hair looks brown? That’s sweat. See how my face is shiny and red and blotchy? That’s sweat. See that smile? That’s confidence. See this picture? That’s proof.
A friend of mine joined my gym and we took this kickboxing class together. Afterwards she expressed her surprise at my level of sweat by saying “You’re like.. WET!” My response to her was “That’s why I’m here!” My sweatiness is something that trips me out sometimes, because as ladies, we’re expected to be dainty, feminine and polite, and if we sweat, it should be little glistening dew drops that glimmer like diamond shimmer powder on our foreheads. Not big, rolling rivers of salty sweat that drips into our eyes and puddles onto the floor. Or at least that’s what we’re supposed to think. I now know that for me, a good workout is measured in the level of “dew” on my body – is the small of my back damp? How about the back of my neck? Do my hands feel clammy, like a 14 year old boy’s at his first school dance? When I work out, it’s not pretty. I’m not there to walk a runway. I’m there to put the WORK in working out… and I’m pretty sure hard work doesn’t always look pretty, unless you’re Heidi Klum or Alexander Skarsgard.
I joined a women’s gym because there’s a comfort level I needed to have to start working out. I sweat like a beast, and when I’m doing squats, I didn’t want to worry about Joe the Plumber staring at my butt as it rippled in agony. I wanted to wake up on Saturday mornings, as I now do, and roll out of bed with wild, frizzy squirrel hair and smudged mascara and have a hell of a workout. I wanted to wear a tank top and not worry about my chicken wings flapping in the powerful air conditioning, and most of all, I wanted to feel like NOBODY WAS WATCHING as I began the intimate process of getting my body into shape. Because it’s my business – not theirs. (heh, the irony is not lost on me that I end up blogging about it anyways)
I’m a hot, sweaty mess after my workout and I don’t care. Actually, I do care. If I’m not sweating, I didn’t make my body work hard enough. No guts, no glory. So a little bit of wetness, perspiration, moisture or dew? Bring it on. I’m waterproof, and washable. I’m not sweatin’ it.