I am out of shape. there's no denying it. I am in the worst shape I've been in my entire life. I haven't worked out or eaten anything even remotely healthy (unless you count the apples in Marie Callender pies, the cheese in Wild Wings Cafe's Blue Cheese Dressing, or the chicken in my nuggets at Chik-fil-A) in ages. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to go about explaining that simple fact to the blogosphere. I debated on opening with a story about how I ripped a hole in the crotch of my favorite jeans when I attempted to sit down in them the other day. But let's just cut to the chase: I have packed on the pounds BIG TIME since moving to Raleigh, NC a few months ago from Los Angeles. And here's the sad irony of it all: I work at a gym. Yup, I work at a gym and I haven't lifted one weight, attended one of their classes or stepped foot on one tredmill.
My plan upon moving to Raleigh was to work part-time so I could spend the majority of my time on two of my favorite things: Working out and writing. I had plans to write the next great New York Times Best Seller. A feat hard to pursue while working (and partying and playing) in L.A. This plan had the best of intentions: work, write and stay healthy. Fast forward a few months and my plan is virtually non-existent. I have barely written a thing thanks to a healthy dose of anxiety and writer's block and I haven't taken advantage of anything my place of employment has to offer. The only thing I've really been committed to, as of late, is eating horribly (bad sign when the folks at Chik-fil-A know your name, your dog's name and your order without you even having to say a word) and being lazy! So embarassing
Maybe it was the death of my favorite pair of jeans, or perhaps that I was huffing and puffing after running up ONE (yes, ONE) flight of stairs chasing after my dog, James Bond, in a game of "Guess who's getting in the tub?" (Answer: Him. Not me. I do not generally fight cleanliness and hide when it's bath time). Either way, I was forced to finally admit to myself that I needed to make some serious lifestyle changes and fast. Plus, it would be nice to rock the pair of skinny jeans again. They have been sitting in the back of my closet for far too long. I sometimes think I hear them calling to me in the night: "Kai. . . . where are you . . . .we miss you!"
I decided to take back control of my life and part ways with my "muffin top" (guys ask your sisters/ girlfriends/ wives about the definition of that term) once and for all. But, I don't want to do it alone. Nope, I want to do this the right way. No more crash diets. No more cleanses involving cayenne pepper. As a female in her early th-th-th-th... (hmmm, let me try that again). As a female in her early th-th-th-THIRTIES, I have failed at enough diets to know I can't do this alone. Luckily for me, I don't have to look very far to ask for help. I just had to show up at work a few minutes early.
Determined and motivated, I walked into work the other day, walked right up to Brian, the head of Personal Training for all the Rapid Fitness Gyms and said, "I need help! Whatever workout plan you want to put me on . . . I'm in! Whatever you say to do. . . I'll do it! I'm the clay. . . you're the sculptor!"
You might think that I was a tad over-dramatic but I'm over it. I'm over feeling tired and cranky all day. I'm over doing the "jean dance" to scoot my pants over my thighs and butt. I'm over shutting my eyes when I get weighed at the doctor. And I'm DEFINITELY over staring enviously at people with fit, toned physiques. That used to be me and I want my body back.
Lucky for me, Brian was not scared off by my crazy rant. He smiled his big smile and said, "if you're serious, You're about to see a whole new you!"
I AM SERIOUS!!!! So serious in fact, that I'm going to blog about my journey towards a leaner, healthier, all-around more fabulous me. I want to prove to myself that I can do it.
I am officially going to GET FIT OR DIE TRYIN' !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Note: I mean that figuratively. My concerned mother seems to think you will all think I mean literally die)
My plan upon moving to Raleigh was to work part-time so I could spend the majority of my time on two of my favorite things: Working out and writing. I had plans to write the next great New York Times Best Seller. A feat hard to pursue while working (and partying and playing) in L.A. This plan had the best of intentions: work, write and stay healthy. Fast forward a few months and my plan is virtually non-existent. I have barely written a thing thanks to a healthy dose of anxiety and writer's block and I haven't taken advantage of anything my place of employment has to offer. The only thing I've really been committed to, as of late, is eating horribly (bad sign when the folks at Chik-fil-A know your name, your dog's name and your order without you even having to say a word) and being lazy! So embarassing
Maybe it was the death of my favorite pair of jeans, or perhaps that I was huffing and puffing after running up ONE (yes, ONE) flight of stairs chasing after my dog, James Bond, in a game of "Guess who's getting in the tub?" (Answer: Him. Not me. I do not generally fight cleanliness and hide when it's bath time). Either way, I was forced to finally admit to myself that I needed to make some serious lifestyle changes and fast. Plus, it would be nice to rock the pair of skinny jeans again. They have been sitting in the back of my closet for far too long. I sometimes think I hear them calling to me in the night: "Kai. . . . where are you . . . .we miss you!"
I decided to take back control of my life and part ways with my "muffin top" (guys ask your sisters/ girlfriends/ wives about the definition of that term) once and for all. But, I don't want to do it alone. Nope, I want to do this the right way. No more crash diets. No more cleanses involving cayenne pepper. As a female in her early th-th-th-th... (hmmm, let me try that again). As a female in her early th-th-th-THIRTIES, I have failed at enough diets to know I can't do this alone. Luckily for me, I don't have to look very far to ask for help. I just had to show up at work a few minutes early.
Determined and motivated, I walked into work the other day, walked right up to Brian, the head of Personal Training for all the Rapid Fitness Gyms and said, "I need help! Whatever workout plan you want to put me on . . . I'm in! Whatever you say to do. . . I'll do it! I'm the clay. . . you're the sculptor!"
You might think that I was a tad over-dramatic but I'm over it. I'm over feeling tired and cranky all day. I'm over doing the "jean dance" to scoot my pants over my thighs and butt. I'm over shutting my eyes when I get weighed at the doctor. And I'm DEFINITELY over staring enviously at people with fit, toned physiques. That used to be me and I want my body back.
Lucky for me, Brian was not scared off by my crazy rant. He smiled his big smile and said, "if you're serious, You're about to see a whole new you!"
I AM SERIOUS!!!! So serious in fact, that I'm going to blog about my journey towards a leaner, healthier, all-around more fabulous me. I want to prove to myself that I can do it.
I am officially going to GET FIT OR DIE TRYIN' !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
(Note: I mean that figuratively. My concerned mother seems to think you will all think I mean literally die)
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