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Posts Tagged ‘working out

So last week, I’d gone in for training sessions two days in a row, and both days my trainer had been in a bad mood. It didn’t affect my workout but I could tell something was wrong.

I didn’t really think anything of it, figured it was just work stuff but then he started talking about it…

Turns out his fiance (who is 23 and too young to be getting married) basically is FREAKING OUT and told him that although she wants to get married, she doesn’t know if she can do it on the date they’ve set. Which is 3 months out from now.

Um, what the fuck. The reason is she’s so busy with school and trying to get into med school (or whatever the hell she’s doing) and so she’s stressed. So… when they planned the date, did she not realize what was going to be happening at the same time?  Like every time they put a deposit down on something, did she not think, “Wow, that’s right around finals” or whatever the issue is. (And here’s what I really don’t understand – school will be done in a month or so, so why is she freaking out about 3 months from now??)

THEN! He goes on to tell me that she’s been engaged before. When she was 18!!! To this guy that beat her!!!

AND!!! HE’S BEEN ENGAGED BEFORE!!!!! And he came home 2 days early from a work trip and found his fiance in bed with another guy.

Holy fuck. HOW CAN I NOT GET A DAMN CALL BACK BUT HE’S PROPOSING TO EVERYONE HE DATES?!!?!?!?

Jesus. I don’t think they should be getting married. But I didn’t say that – I just told him about my brother and his wife, and how when things get hard she shuts down, and I pointed out that maybe that’s not a characteristic you should want in a life partner, and he was like, “Yeah, that’s what my girl does too.”   Awesome. Good luck with that.

So basically, he’s always worried she’s cheating, and she totally doesn’t communicate because she’s afraid of whatever, and WHY ARE THEY GETTING MARRIED.

I just told him to leave her alone for now, let her de-stress and figure things out. It may not be the answer he wants at the end, but what ever happens will happen and he can’t control all of that. He agreed.

I feel horrible for him. I can’t imagine being engaged and all of a sudden the other person being like, “Yeah, just kidding. I mean, I still want to marry you, just not now because of these bullshit reasons I made up…”

SO THEN!! Today I just asked “How are things” because I didn’t want to ignore that we’d discussed this all last week but I didn’t really want to bring it up either in case things went super south and he said she’d just called him and yelled at him because she failed a test and blamed it on him and the stress they’re having. WOW. So… perhaps this girl isn’t mature enough to handle marriage? Just a thought.

He goes on to say, “I’m about to have two rings handed back to me before I’m even 30. I am never getting married if this ends.”

And in the middle of my exercises, I just couldn’t hold it in, and say, “Maybe you’re asking the wrong girls to marry you.”

And to his credit, he laughed, and said, “Well, then I have no business being in a serious relationship if I can’t pick well.”

Basically, in my head, that translates to: “I can’t wait to fuck you.” At least, that’s what I think he meant. 😉

 

 

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Saturday morning I woke up with diarrhea. I’ve mentioned in this blog before that I have diarrheal IBS – have had it for 20 years and it’s a condition I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

It started after a trip to India when I was 15. We’d been there for the whole summer and on the last day, I shit myself.  I couldn’t even get to the bathroom in time. We’re packing for the plane ride home, mom’s yelling at me (like I did it on purpose) and the whole f’ing family knows. I was SO embarrassed.

And after that, my stomach was never the same (before there had ever been any studies, I KNEW that what happened on that trip was what caused my subsequent IBS.) I have to be incredibly careful when I eat, I’m never sure what’ll set it off  — I can eat pizza one day and be fine, have the same pizza the next day and be sick to my stomach – and have spent more time in my bathroom, cramping and crying and feeling like I’m dying, than I care to admit.

It’s hard to explain to people who don’t understand or have never dealt with it. It’s not just “an upset tummy.” It’s an upset tummy on steroids. It makes me want to die, and half the time I feel like I am – and then I start to pray that I don’t die sitting on my toilet cause that’s not how I want the cops to find me.

It feels like I’m shitting out my insides, and when I’m done, there is nothing in my body. I have no energy and no nutrients and am physically exhausted. All I want to do is lay in bed and sleep until I feel like I can eat again without my body trying to expel everything, but that’s no way to live life, so I push through and do the daily things I would if I wasn’t sick, just usually at a slower pace.

(So… imagine how I felt Saturday night – after the diarrhea, after the workout, after the hike and it’s 7pm and we still hadn’t eaten. I was starving and trying not to be cranky and just H.U.N.G.R.Y.. I mentioned to “the Bod” after the hike that I was tired, and he said, “Maybe you should’ve eaten lunch.” As I said to him, “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to have to shit in the woods so I thought that was a bad idea.”)

Luckily, my friend are all awesome and understand that if I’m gone for 30 minutes at a time, I’m probably sick and it’s best to leave me alone. I’m super open about my bowel issues because I have to be – what’s the most common first date? Dinner and drinks. And I never know if dinner will upset my stomach or not, so I tend to give my dates a warning. It’s not the most romantic discussion to have, but a necessary one when you’re dating me.  I carry Immodium everywhere I go. I’m never without it.

So Saturday, after I’d finished being sick all morning, I decided to still go in for my training session and just ask him to go easy. I found out a few sessions ago that my trainer has Crohn’s Disease, so we’ve discussed our various stomach issues since then.

When I got there, he asked, as he always does: “Hey! How are you??”

And all I had to say was, “My IBS flared up this morning. I can’t do abs today and need to take it easy.”

Him: “Sure, no problem. We’ll skip the endurance stuff, do some easy legs and still get you worked out.”

Awesome. Just awesome.

So then we’re just chatting about weight, how it fluctuates and how we feel about it. I told him that this 10 lb weight gain I’ve had is because, for about 2 years now, my IBS hasn’t been as bad as it was. My body actually is holding on to food and nutrition and although it’s annoying I’ve gained the weight, it’s the first time in 20 years I feel healthy. I’m not starving all the time. I can eat and although I still worry and it still flares up, it’s been far less of an issue than it has been before. I pray it stays this way.

He told me how when he gets his Crohn’s flare ups, he loses a lot of weight and his 6-pack shows even more – which some people find attractive and he hates, because it means he’s sick:

“If my abs are showing that much, it means I’m not doing well.”

And I understood completely because 2 years ago, I came back from a trip to Kenya.  I was sick while there and for MONTHS afterwards, couldn’t keep anything in my body. I would literally eat and shit it out within 10 minutes (and for those who think that’s impossible…it’s not). There was nothing in my system and there was nothing the doctors could do for me.

It was July and bathing suit season and all I heard from everyone was:

“Wow. You look great! Your stomach is so flat!!!”

And there’s nothing I could say but “Thanks” when really what I wanted to say was:

“FUCK. YOU. I CANNOT EAT ANYTHING. I AM TIRED AND HUNGRY ALL THE DAMN TIME. STOP TELLING ME I LOOK GOOD.”

Cause, sure, I may have looked hot – but I was completely unhealthy and not able to keep anything in and tired all the time and not digesting. And  there’s no way to understand how it feels to look ‘hot’ but feel awful, unless you’ve been through it… and he has.

So when he told me how he felt when his abs show, I knew exactly what he meant, and he knew how I felt that even though I may have looked amazing, I wasn’t happy.

And to be able to discuss that with someone who actually understands is rare (thankfully) – but the fact that he’s my trainer makes me even more grateful, because he gets it. He gets my body and he gets my worries and he gets the issues, without being grossed out about it.

The weird part of this is, after those months and months of being sick, something happened and I could almost feel a literal change in my body – whatever was causing my IBS  – it wasn’t/isn’t gone, but it definitely wasn’t the same as it was. I can’t explain it. But I knew when that bout of “traveler’s induced IBS” was finished, there was something different. I knock on wood daily that it stays this way and doesn’t come back the way it used to be.

But the best part of this whole downer of a story is, while we’re talking about this and I’m doing my squats is he looks me up and down, with the ‘extra’ weight on me, and says:

“Yeah. You’re definitely fine. You’ve got nothing to worry about. 80% of the people in this gym would love to look like you.”

Damn. I am pretty sure a few drinks and we could get this thing done. And by ‘this thing’ I totally mean sex. With me. I wouldn’t even comment on how hot his abs are. 😉

 

So while on my vacation, “The Bod” and I had a chatted a bit via text and we were supposed to see each other upon my return.

In the meanwhile, he was participating in this. Because, he is “The Bod” and that’s how he maintains his not-so-girlish figure. W.T.F. It sounded insane. He had to carry logs, carry people, wade through lakes (ewww), and generally haul ass all over the city, the whole time carrying 40 lbs of bricks in a backpack. At 1am. On the coldest night of the winter.

Who volunteers for this shit? Not just volunteers, but actually PAYS for it? AND WHY IS THAT PERSON DATING ME?!?!?!

Let’s face it – I’m active, but in a gym-based way. Being outside, to me, is just a way to die. I’m clumsy, so god knows I’ll fall off something and get stabbed by a tree. Or a bear will eat me. Or I’ll get stung and find out I’m allergic to bees and die of shock.

Ok, I’m being facetious, but still – me and Mother Nature are not BFF.

He, of course, doesn’t really know this about me because we’ve never had a reason to discuss it. And when I got back from vacation, this was our conversation:

Him: “The weather is supposed to be gorgeous this weekend…”

Me: “Uh huh… what are you getting at?”

Him: “Do you want to do something outside?”

Me (to myself): Fuuuuuuuuuuuucccccccckkkkkkkk.

Me (to him): “Ummm… sure. What are you thinking?”

Him: “Want to go for a hike?”

Me (to myself): No.

Me (to him): “Sure!”

Him: “Great!”

Me (with some word vomit): “Can we do an easy one? Cause I suck at climbing things.”

Him: “How bad can you be at it? It’s just walking… outside.”

Me: “You don’t understand! I fall in my own house! Like a few months ago, I caught my pajama bottoms on my foot and fell face first on my floor. I can’t do that outside!!!”

Him: “Um… you’ll be fine. Besides, if you want, I can do it while carrying a log and some bricks.”

Me: “NO! That’s even worse because you’ll STILL be faster than me! I’ll be so embarrassed.”

So yesterday, off we went, on a hike. I had had diarrhea in the morning (different post) so really was hoping for something easy. Thankfully, it was fine. I didn’t have to poop during the walk, and we stopped at a nice little section of rocks and watched the water for a bit.

He came back to my place and we ordered in, I baked cookies (did NOT turn out so great) and we were in bed by 11. Yup. Exciting Saturday night.

So then came the sex. Obviously, we haven’t been hooking up that long, but I can already tell you EXACTLY how we’re gonna do it (not that I’m going to right here). There’s no variety. Not that it’s not fun, I totally enjoy it, but it’s the exact same. Every time. HOW CAN IT BE SO ROUTINE ALREADY??? I need to figure out how to change that… assuming there is a next time.

When he was leaving today, I asked if we were gonna do this again – it’s my standard question when we part ways. He said, “Of course” but we didn’t plan our next date. He just said, “We’ll figure it out.”

Fine. Whatever. I don’t want to be the one who pushes on this again and again. I’m assuming he wants to keep his options open, so I am too – just said yes to a guy on OkCupid who wanted to grab drinks. Why not?

outdoorsy-getting-flirting-ecard-someecards

So today was the half-way point in my sessions.  We took measurements at the beginning, and this was the first time since then that we were taking measurements again.

To sum it up (all of this is by .5 to 1 inch changes): biceps got smaller, triceps got bigger, thighs got smaller, calves got smaller, chest got slightly smaller, waist smaller, hips no change.

I was not that excited about the results, but he totally was. He said I’m ‘leaning out’ – and he thought it was great. Plus he said I’m getting stronger (which I noticed) and he said although I can’t see the changes on my own body, there’s a definite difference from the first day I walked in.

My body fat??? That used to be 31.7%??? UP TO 32.6%.

What. The. Fuck.

But, I also ‘lost’ 2 lbs (I don’t think I lost anything, really), and the boobs stayed the same – so a smaller denominator with the same numerator results in a bigger body fat percentage. At least, that’s what I think. Maybe I just got fatter.

SO THEN… we’re chatting and he’s talking about how I refuse to do sprints.

I couldn’t hold it in, and just say: “Ohmygod. I have to wear TWO sports bras just for the stuff we do in here. I’d have to wear SIX if you made me do sprints. I cannot do them.”

He starts to laugh, and says, “Well, I mean they’re not a bad thing. There are some perks to them being that size.”

Which made me giggle, and he got flustered and lost count of my leg raises.

I LOVE when I make him flustered. 😉

 

 

So I had my 12th session today – that’s 12 30-minute sessions. We’ve spent 6 hours together, talking about random stuff. Tonight we chatted about an upcoming vacation:

Him: “I’m heading to Vegas in May.”

Me: “That’s cool – boys trip?”

Him: “Um… no, friends.”

Later on, during tricep dips, we were just chatting about our weekends, and I asked him something about the trip, and I can’t remember what it was because of his answer:

Well… um… I’m … getting married in July.

WHAT?!?!?!?!

I knew he had a DOG before I knew he had a fucking fiance.

Luckily,  I didn’t have a weight in my hand because I would’ve dropped it. I mean, at no point did he ever say, “Oh, me and my fiance did this…” OR “Yeah, I went to dinner, my girlfriend couldn’t come…” OR “Yeah, I’m engaged” OR “I hung out alone because my girl had to work.”

NONE OF THAT. WHAT THE FUCK.

So, I obligingly ask about her, because I have to (even though he completely was SO hesitant to even tell me he’s getting married) – she’s JUST GRADUATING FROM COLLEGE. She’s like 22. Goddamn!

AND THEN! THEY ONLY SEE EACH OTHER 2x / WEEK! He said that she’s busy with school and then works at the bar (uh …) and that they only get to hang out the nights she’s home before 2am. According to him, they’re both so career driven and he’s glad about that, because he’s not paying her school loans (which all I could think was, Thank God).

What. The. Fuck.  The only reason they’re still together is because they don’t see each other enough to actually fight. Also, he’s like 26, max. We KNOW how this is going to end.

I’m still stunned, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I mean, it doesn’t change anything – I’ll still have my little fantasy about hooking up with him, and he’ll continue to never mention this girl he loves.

 

Had a session yesterday with my trainer, and I’m doing sit-ups on that stupid incline bench holding a 10 lb weight. I’m always scared I’m going to drop said weight onto my face, body, somewhere. It doesn’t help that he makes me laugh while I’m doing these:

Me: “What’d you do last night?”

Him: “Just went to this little place for dinner, sat at the bar*, had some tequila and beer. But I left early because the cops come out and I didn’t want to be driving when they’re looking for people. And, I didn’t want to leave my car there, because it’s sort of ghetto just a block over. I didn’t want the Mexicans stealing it.”

Me (pulling myself up, laughing): “You are SO racist!”

Him: “No! I don’t have anything against Mexicans! It’s just that they’d steal my car!”

I had the giggles, which is really not conducive for doing any sort of situp. Also, his defense of his non-racism is not helping his cause, but it is true in that neighborhood that the car probably would be stolen. By which race, I’m not sure, but stolen definitely. *Also, every time he tells me a story, he’s by himself. So no girlfriend. More weirdly, no friends either.

So we move on with the session and, of course, there’s an older guy (in really good shape) using this arm bench-press machine with a massive amount of weight on it.  My trainer just looks at me, smirks, and says: “Some people make me laugh.” SUPER LOUDLY.

Like, come on. This guy can totally figure out that you mean him! So I told him to be quiet, as I have to do multiple times each sessions.

Him: “But he’s got no extension! He’s not even using it right!”

Me: “Fine, but unless you’re going to help him, I don’t think making fun of him is very nice. God. You’re mean and racist!!!”

 

 

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So even though my trainer is loud as fuck, I adore him. It helps that he’s easy on the eyes and I actually enjoy chatting with him, when he’s not broadcasting my information for the entire gym to hear.

Saturday, I went in for my session with him and we discussed ‘boobgate.’ He apologized, again, and we talked about how I maybe won’t see the percentage weight loss that he had thought I would. He also thanked me for bringing it up, because apparently, no one else has ever mentioned this before… good thing I have no filter.

Anyway, as I’m doing these awful chair squats, I see an older lady doing pull-ups. I whisper to him: “That’s what I want to do! I want to be able to do a pull-up!!!”

Him (loudly): “BUT SHE’S DOING THEM WRONG.”

Me (quietly): “Shut up! You are so loud. She’s not deaf! Is her form really that bad?”

Him (loudly): “YES!”

And then he says, in the same loud voice (but I’ll save you from reading in all-caps):

“But you can’t always tell people that they doing something wrong, especially older ones. They get really offended when you’re just trying to help! It’s the testosterone when they’re working out and they don’t want to hear it. Old people just want to do what they’ve always done.”

Ok, I got the giggles. First of all, SHE CAN TOTALLY HEAR HIM! Secondly, dude, she’s not ANCIENT! And she’s trying hard to get a work out in… but he was not even going to bother going over to help, because he’s had people complain about that before (which, come on, I can totally understand why someone would complain).

I just looked at him, still giggling, and said: “She can hear you, you know. Jesus. When will you learn to be quieter?!?! Some old person’s gonna kick your ass.”  He was laughing too by then.

I like to imagine this scenario in mind almost exactly how it happened, except we’re at my place, naked, about to have sex. So basically, in no way exactly how it happened. 😉   In my delusional world, he’s thinking the same thing.


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