Just Let Me Die In Peace

195.6 lbs. Yussss! 1 more pound and I reach an important milestone: 30 lbs. down.  Please pray for The Great White Belly to continue shrinking.

While pounding away on the elliptical machine today, the common Steroid Douche (douchebagus juicicanae) took up residence on the one next to me. They are easily identified by 1) the combination of skinny little legs and upper body reminiscent of a Charles Atlas ad (they were the original “kick sand in your face” guys). Naked, one would see that the massive upper body is in high contrast to the shrunken testicles (aka nuts the size of Skittles. Thank you, Mark and Brian for that one). They vary in size  and either have an exposed crest of perfectly gelled and styled hair that doesn’t move (see “The Jersey Shore”) or the crest is covered with a baseball cap, worn backwards or crooked. One frequently hears their mating calls,  bass or baritone grunting punctuated with a frequent loud barking as they finish a set and drop the (always heavy) weight on the ground. The Steroid Douche watches himself as he lifts weight, pretending he is unaware of the presence of nearby females.  Frequently seen in pairs or small groups that increase grunting and explosive “end of set” barking. This species is not to be confused with the gay gym rat (homo buffius). This particular one was singing periodically (probably to some hair metal band. He was so bad, I couldn’t make out a tune) and looking over at me to check my annoyance level. It was high. Fortunately, he left shortly, but gave me the stink eye as he did so. No words, but I know the stink eye when I get it.

Today, I reached an important non-weight milestone: the additional laundry day. From yesterday’s cardio + weight training, my clothes were still pretty slimy and nasty when I went to put them on today. THAT, my friends, is the mark of truly pushing yourself hard. They are now happily bouncing around inside the dryer, playing hide n seek with the dryer sheet.

I had a job interview this morning (results pending) and needed to pin the pants of my size 20W Tahari suit in order to keep them from falling off my butt. Now THAT was a motivation booster. That plus the lower number this morning, the lack of extreme soreness this morning (HA! Trainer/torturer! Take that!) and the icky condition of my workout clothes made me feel good. The more distance I put between myself and 200 lbs., the better I like it.

However, today’s yoga session was less an exercise in inner and outer strength and balance less than a game of Tibetan Twister. Lila was out and Rochelle came in as a substitute. This was my second class with Rochelle (of which I have completed 1.25) and I do believe the woman can actually levitate. God knows she believes in doing as much as possible on one foot. If there was ever a one-legged person capable of winning a butt-kicking contest, my money would be on Rochelle. Even if Chuck Norris was in the contest.

Whereas Lila’s classes make me feel like a yoga novice (awkward, unsure in the poses, but there’s hope), in Lila’s class, I feel like a water buffalo with the flu (awkward, large and everything aches). My mental chatter included a lot of “You have GOT to be kidding me.” The fact that the rest of the class was able to jam a foot in the crotch, hold a leg up and out straight in front of them and generally not fall over didn’t help my confidence. Even one woman, who looked like she was having as much trouble as I was, got hold of her big toe and got that leg out in front. So much for the sisterhood of the stiff.

There was one move that involved a sudden transition from being in a vee (arms on knees, rolling onto the back, then rolling forward (without going all the way over) and sweeping arms out to the side (To answer the question you’re about to ask, No, I just stayed in the vee shape and sucked in my gut. And sweated profusely). It seemed to me that there should be a “TA DA” at the completion of this pose.

Okay, so I spent some time in Child’s Pose (the facedown fetal position) and did more modifications than a bank with a ton of bad mortgage loans in the portfolio, but I refuse to be intimidated by a soft-spoken, limber toothpick who likes Sarah Brightman. I persevered and made it all the way through to Corpse pose.  Rochelle was almost as bad as Torquemada for inflicting pain, just in a more quiet and subtle way (The Pushy Peanut was busy torturing someone else today so I was able to slip past her. She gets her shot tomorrow).

I used to ask myself if I would be willing to experience extreme pain over a determined short period (like 24 to 48 hours) in order to have the body I wanted at the end of it. Well, the time period is longer and the pain is not as intense as I envisioned, but I’m getting the body I wanted. Eventually.