Since the last post was kind of whiny, I am going to change the tone. Baby M is cutting two front teeth and a couple molars. He can say the word booze. Development is going swimmingly! He can order alcohol and chew real food, kinda. I am depriving myself of sleep so I can play on the interwebz, even though I have to cook and clean tomorrow, and dress myself for the family invasion. Why am I depriving myself? Because I neglected to describe my fitness assessment.
I joined a health center affiliated with a local hospital. I chose this gym because 1) it's cheap and 2) it has child care. So I go ahead and make the appointment to have an assessment. After I have the assessment, which will definitely suck, the trainer will give me a workout, which theoretically will help me shrink. Yes, this is the carrot and stick. On the morning of my assessment (notice the first syllable is ass, which draws attention to the fact that mine has spread,) a very buff and possibly, well maybe, straight male nurse/trainer comes to lead me through the gym to the room where they humiliate you. As we were walking I discovered the best part of the gym. Everyone in there is older than me! Every. Single. One of Them. How freaking awesome is that! My gym is inhabited by the elderly cardiac, and pulmonary rehab patients, with the odd joint replacement thrown in. I look GOOD in this gym!
Elation fills me as we step into the humiliation cell, or assessment room. Guess how your BMI is measured these days? Your trainer, who should wear a black pillow case with eyeholes cut out, uses the little caliper things to pinch the fat on seven places on your body. Not two. He measured my belly fat, my hip fat, my back fat, my thigh fat, the little weird fat pocket between my arm pit and bra strap. He even measured the fat under my arm pit after he measure the fat on the back of my arm. Thank heavens I shaved the day before (I think). I don't think my OBGYN has ever examined me this closely. Crikey!
Then the trainer tells me my number. Apparently I am 39% fat. I am going to say that 5% of that is in the boob, so I am 34% fat. WTH? How did this happen? Oh yeah! I ate a lot! So now I am going to stop eating and start sweating. My goal is to lose 70 pounds in a year. Lord help me, I am going to be working out for the first time in my life. On the bright side, I look good in my gym!
I joined a health center affiliated with a local hospital. I chose this gym because 1) it's cheap and 2) it has child care. So I go ahead and make the appointment to have an assessment. After I have the assessment, which will definitely suck, the trainer will give me a workout, which theoretically will help me shrink. Yes, this is the carrot and stick. On the morning of my assessment (notice the first syllable is ass, which draws attention to the fact that mine has spread,) a very buff and possibly, well maybe, straight male nurse/trainer comes to lead me through the gym to the room where they humiliate you. As we were walking I discovered the best part of the gym. Everyone in there is older than me! Every. Single. One of Them. How freaking awesome is that! My gym is inhabited by the elderly cardiac, and pulmonary rehab patients, with the odd joint replacement thrown in. I look GOOD in this gym!
Elation fills me as we step into the humiliation cell, or assessment room. Guess how your BMI is measured these days? Your trainer, who should wear a black pillow case with eyeholes cut out, uses the little caliper things to pinch the fat on seven places on your body. Not two. He measured my belly fat, my hip fat, my back fat, my thigh fat, the little weird fat pocket between my arm pit and bra strap. He even measured the fat under my arm pit after he measure the fat on the back of my arm. Thank heavens I shaved the day before (I think). I don't think my OBGYN has ever examined me this closely. Crikey!
Then the trainer tells me my number. Apparently I am 39% fat. I am going to say that 5% of that is in the boob, so I am 34% fat. WTH? How did this happen? Oh yeah! I ate a lot! So now I am going to stop eating and start sweating. My goal is to lose 70 pounds in a year. Lord help me, I am going to be working out for the first time in my life. On the bright side, I look good in my gym!
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