So, this is forty.
I have put my body through some pretty terrible things but worst of all has been what I've put in my body. Until I reached a certain point where I could no longer eat that cheeseburger right before bed because of how it made me feel in the morning and pretty much the next three days...I had no idea what I was doing to myself. It's not just about the calories and the fat. It's about how I feel about myself on the inside. Sure, nachos and salsa and cheese sounds like an amazingly delicious snack while I'm sitting on the couch with my main squeeze, enjoying the last 30 minutes of the day, no kids, no distractions, just us. Me and my man. Love those 30 minutes. The best. We talk a little about our work days, our kids, our upcoming weekend plans, our future. Sometimes we cuddle and smooch a little. Ok, TMI. That's our time. All 30 beautiful minutes. My main squeeze and some amazing nachos. That's my 20 year old mind. My forty year old mind is telling me that 1. I don't have 30 minutes to sit and do anything. 2. Nachos sounds like a fab idea but not right before bed. I don't want to be on the toilet for 30 minutes in the morning and all that grease will undoubtedly make me feel like a giant blob...not to mention what my main squeeze is probably thinking as I scarf them down. Oh well...you only live once. I'll worry about it tomorrow. And 3. Who cares. I'm 40. I'll never have my 20 year old body back. You can't rewind time. I do nothing but work, cook, clean and take care of my kids anyway. Who has time to worry about what they eat anyway? People with no kids, no jobs, no lives and no responsibilities. That's who.
Every day I get up (after hitting the snooze button a couple times), shower, get ready for work, take my 2 year old to daycare, work, work, work, come home, cook, clean, play with the kids briefly, help with homework, give the 2 year old a bath, read and/or sing to the 2 year old, put him to bed, eat something absolutely delicious and atrocious and go to bed. This has been the routine for at least the last 2 years. Before my youngest son, it was even worse. I was on my feet a lot less and I ate more crap than I do now. Like an entire bag of microwave buttery popcorn at 10pm. A hand full of spicy cheese-its. Some potato chips with hot sauce. Maybe an entire bag of flaming hot Cheetos. Three or four beers. Who am I kidding? I did that last week...more than once.
Now, I live with a man who has had a 6-day-a-week work out routine for the entire 16 years we've been together. And I'm positive, before 'us' he worked out even harder and more often. When he was promoted at work a couple years ago and his job duties changed from extremely physical 12 hours a day to sitting at a desk 60% of the work day, his work out habits changed as well. I've been watching and listening to him walk around the house, glaring at himself in the mirror every 15 minutes, complaining about how far he's fallen, frowning at the sight of himself and flip flopping from, "I need to get rid of this flab" to "I need to get back to the heavy weights and bulk up this muscle again" for 2 solid years. At the risk of sounding a little selfish, can I tell you how mad this made me? I have had 3 babies (gigantic babies, I might add), 6 losses in the last 21 years and a hysterectomy before the age of 40. I've never been one to worry about what I eat or if I exercise because I've always been fairly thin. But for the last three years or so I've absolutely despised my own reflection. From the wrinkles on my face, the gray hairs on my head, the lack of a single pair of properly fitting jeans, the love handles I never, ever thought I'd have, the absolutely lack of energy to do anything at all, and the fact that I became a grandma 3 times over this year...I just can't even look at myself without wanting to cry. I've never felt so horrible about myself in all my life. It's terrible. How can I feel this way and maintain a healthy, balanced, normal life??? I can't. I simply can't. I'm not happy. And what is making me unhappy...is me. I absolutely adore my husband. He is my best friend and the sole reason I've managed to maintain my sanity the last 20 years. I love him. I love everything about him. But how can I love him so much when I don't know how to love myself any more? Last week, my sanity took a plunge and I realized that I need to make some major changes in my life. I need to make these changes so that I can be a better me, a better wife, a better mom, a better grandma, a better human being. I want to be around to see all of my babies grow up. I want to play with my grand babies! I want to see them all into their adult years. And I don't want to do it from a bed, a wheel chair, behind tears and pain, or from the heavens, God forbid. I don't want them to remember me this way. I want to feel pretty again. I want to feel proud. I want to leave a positive trail, a beautiful legacy. I want to laugh more and cry less. I don't want to feel the shame I feel any more. And I don't want my kids to see me so sad. It cuts like a knife when I hear, "are you ok, mom?" It makes me want to curl up in a ball and disappear.
Last week, my husband, in the most gentle voice he could muster, asked if I would be interested in embarking on this workout journey by his side. He asked if I wanted to help him stay focused. He asked if I was ready to make changes that would help me feel better, inside and out....because I deserve to be happy. How could I say "no" to that?? When he said it like that...I wasn't mad any more. My guilt didn't cut me like a knife. My heart swelled....but not because I thought I was going to keel over and die. For that brief moment...I think I could physically feel something in me changing. It was as if a weight had been lifted off my shoulders or something. I knew what I had to do and more importantly I I knew I could do it. I hadn't lost any motivation to be a better, healthier me. I always wanted to be better. I just didn't know where to start or how to do it. And I had no faith in myself. I had no discipline. That night, all I could think about was my ultimate goal. I didn't care how long it was going to take to get there. I didn't care about giving up my delicious nachos. I didn't care if I had to make sacrifices...like working out in front of people who might think I look a little silly. I just couldn't wait to get started. The next day I contacted my cousin Tiffanie, a Beach Body Coach and someone I had been watching for the last few years as she embarked on her own healthy journey.
I won't lie. There are days when I'd see Tiffanie's posts on social media and immediately scroll past it. She is a gorgeous wife and mother who is so lucky to have her amazing husband who takes care of her financially so she can stay home and raise their two absolutely beautiful children. Jealous? Indeed. But more than that...seeing her so motivated and successful made me feel even more guilt! I wasn't mad at her...who could be? She's amazing!! It was just easier to make excuses for myself by saying things like, "she can afford to stay home with her kids, buy the supplements, workout in her super big house with tons of room, spend ungodly amounts of time (and money) on meal plans that are healthier and more beneficial to her, buy and use the protein shakes, get online and track her workouts and interact with other very fortunate women doing the same thing and still have time and money to have fun, go on date nights with her husband, travel to fun and expensive places and be an amazing mother to those fantastic babies she has. I can't do all that. I have to work and cook and clean and shop for the only groceries I can afford to feed the 4 people under my roof, and wash, dry, fold and put away laundry for 4 people and feed and water the dog, and find time to love and play with my babies and..." Good Grief. No wonder I feel the way I do about myself. This girl....is amazing!!! She is an absolute ray of sunshine, breath of fresh air....and THE most beautiful, full of happiness, inspirational, fitness goddess I've ever had the pleasure of knowing and she's my cousin!!! How sad, angry, depressed, and awful of a person I must be to think so terribly of myself just because she's doing it, and I'm not. My reason for scrolling past Tiff's awesome posts had nothing to do with her and everything to do with how I've felt about me. When I called her to talk to her about the 21 day fix, the Beach Body program I wanted to start, I was prepared to be positive, listen to everything she had to say, and get this journey started. But the entire Hour and a half or so that I talked to her I kept repeatedly hearing myself being negative, bull headed, strong willed, whatever you want to call it...I was being a jerk. More excuses. More denial. More lack of discipline. She told me about all the things I could benefit from and all the support that was at my fingertips. FREE! She even sent me a free bag of Shakeology after I told her we weren't going to do the Shakeology because of the cost. She really wanted me to try it before I decided that. What a gal! I joined her support group where I could post my progress and read about the other women with similar journeys. I didn't know if I'd have time to do that or if I really wanted to see other women doing better than me. Because that's how my mind works these days. I just knew if I saw someone else doing the same workout but better, faster, stronger than me...I would lose that motivation and let my lack of discipline control my choices....and I would give up. That was my fear. That I would give up.
Monday, the day after Easter Sunday I woke up feeling ready for the world! I drank water, ate a banana, even ate a light lunch. I was expecting my package to arrive Tuesday or Wednesday so I was just going to do P90X with Barry or some Tae Bo or something after work. Gabe called me early in the afternoon to tell me a package had arrived. YIPPEE! Wow, that was fast!! I couldn't wait to get home! I came home and as I prepared dinner I read through all the materials that came with the 21 day fix. I read about the meal plans, the food containers, the workouts, the measurements and tracking, everything. I. Was. Stoked!!
The last few months of my life have been very chaotic in my life. There have been numerous stressful situations that alone would've been difficult to handle. But the fact that there were multiple situations like that made me feel like I've aged 10 years in 6 months. When my husband came in the door Monday from work I couldn't wait to talk to him about my package arriving and my excitement to get started. He was going to get his workout in while I prepared dinner so that I could get mine in after. Then life happened again. We started talking about one of these stressful situations I mentioned...and everything went south. My motivation was gone, my heart was hurting, the tears began to flow and I just knew what was happening...I was giving up. Again. I cried all the way through dinner. An hour and a half and a gallon of tears later, he started his 90 minute workout. I was even more depressed at this point because even if there was a sliver of drive left in me...there would never be enough time or energy to get in an effective work out. I was convinced it would make more sense to start on Tuesday. I'm not really sure why I allowed our conversation to make me feel so defeated. I think it's just because I've been so weak, emotionally these last few months, that it was easier to give up. I finished dinner and went to hang out with the 2 year old for a while. There's nothing he could do to make me cry, right? Why was I so upset, anyway? We didn't say anything to each other that should've gotten me that upset. It was just the idea that the conversation wasn't going the direction I wanted it to. I was like a whiny 2 year old, not getting her way. I guess sitting on the floor, putting together a track for Thomas the Train with Curious George playing in the background was right where I belonged. After my husband completed his work out he came in to let me know. We were both holding grudges...which we never do. My heart was aching. I didn't like the way we weren't communicating one bit. I left the room with the intention of finding something to clean to preoccupy my juvenile, undisciplined mind. As I entered the kitchen I saw the 21 day Fix disk and accompanying documents lying on the kitchen table. There was no way I was letting ME stop me again!!
I grabbed the disk, stomped out into the living room, prepared my yoga mat and weights, got a glass of water and a towel and popped in the disk. This was around 9:00 pm. About 10 minutes in to the cardio total body workout....I started worrying I wasn't going to make it the next 20 minutes, much less the next 20 days!! How in the hell do these women do this? And smile while they're doing it??? Good grief! Out of shape, old, and beyond help. That about sums up my thinking right at that moment. But I persevered. I was sweating pretty good and my legs were already like jello, wobbling and shaking with every bend. I thought I might actually fall right on my face a few times...but to my surprise, I'm a little stronger than I thought! Just a little. The program has a modifier, a slower, beginner type person who is almost always in view so that you can see that not everyone can keep up with the fit little bombshell leading the way. Everyone has to start some where. I kept moving and I made it to the end, in tact, without falling on my face. This is progress. I went to bed that night feeling so much better about the events of the evening....even though I was still holding a little bit of a grudge. The next day I was a little sore, as I expected to be after jumping into this workout like I did. I didn't realize how sore until I attempted to climb the stairs at work. I was literally talking to myself, out loud, all the way up the stairs, "you can do this! this is the good kind of pain! bikini season, sister! power through and own those stairs!" Who knew I was such a great motivational speaker? lol All day I winced in pain when I walked, took the stairs and tried to gracefully sit back in my chair without falling out of it. What a big baby! All day and night this continued but I held on to my determination and I completed the day 2, 21 day fix routine on Tuesday. Upper body....that I could handle. As long as I didn't have to jump...even once. lol I even drank my Shakeology for breakfast, which is usually my worst meal seeing as how I rarely have more than a cup or two of coffee for breakfast. I was surprised at how much it didn't hurt at first. And then we had to do push ups...and forearm planks. Holy moly. I've had a bum shoulder for a few years and I was pretty worried I'd have to take it easy but it didn't hurt my shoulder as bad as I'd imagined. So I powered through. Once again, the modifier was a savior. But I did it. The whole 30 minutes, weights and all. Well...lighter weights than what Miss Fancy Pants instructor was using....but weights, nonetheless. Today, day 3, I'm ready to tackle this workout and it's only noon. So far today I've had to get up every 15 minutes or so from my desk to walk around because if I wait too long, my legs hurt so bad I may just fall on my face after all. I left to pick up a salad for lunch and wasn't sure I was going to make it down the stairs! Wowza!! There's that good hurt again. I'm sure that the pain will lessen as my muscles grow. I'm sure. Right, Tiffanie??
I got to thinking last night about my goals here. My ultimate goal is to lose about 25 lbs and feel better. If I feel better, inside and out, everything else will fall into place. I won't feel so insecure. I won't feel so worthless. I won't feel so tired and angry. I won't fear not being around long enough to see my children prosper. I won't worry about what kind of legacy I leave behind because I'll KNOW that what I'm doing is good for me and for everyone around me. This is a lifestyle change. This is something I want to maintain as long as I possibly can....not just for 21 days. But for well over 21 years. I think I have at least that much time left. I need to change my way of thinking as well as my habits. I am not going to wake up tomorrow and be happy with what I see in a bikini in my mirror...but I'll be happy because I look and feel better. I'll be happy because I'm teaching my kids to care about themselves as much as I do so they don't get to a point (around 40 or so) where they don't like what they see in the mirror. Instead I, and they, can focus their energy and attention on other, more satisfying things in life and just be happy. They won't have to cry. They won't have to feel what I've felt for so long now. No one can take this kind of pain away for me...I have to do it myself. I have to work for it. I have to want it bad enough. And if they ever feel this way...I won't be able to help them. They'll have to want to help themselves.
I may not be following the meal plan to a T or measuring up to the best of the best just yet...but I'll get there. I've had a hard time finding the time to prepare the meals because I don't have the right kind of food in my refrigerator yet or the money in my wallet to rectify that just yet. But I do try to watch what I eat and how much. I drink a lot of water. I take a vitamin. I try to keep it as healthy as possible. I didn't want to postpone the 21 day fix as I waited for payday to restock my kitchen because I may have lost motivation/discipline in the meantime. SO....this is me. This is 40. This is my plan. I have an open mind and an open heart. I have motivation. I have determination. I have more than enough reasons to want this and to work my hardest for it. I have discipline. I have faith. I will change my life. I will change my children's lives. And maybe, my story will help you change yours.
20 years ago I didn't know where I would be today. But here I am. Making better choices and working on making the next 20 years even better. Join me on my journey or start your own...but don't wait 20 years to be the best you that you can be.
Love and blessings
Sambo
