Yep, it’s true. I am. And before you get all “No, you shouldn’t say that about yourself!” on me, let me preempt you by saying I was on the beach last weekend and there is nothing like a beach vacation in the middle of the winter to remind you of all the work that needs to be done by Spring. You’re usually pale (yes, Black girls get pale), and softer in areas you shouldn’t be due to the covering of said areas in clothing – in my case, specifically leggings. Since recently that’s all that fits. Thank goodness they’re in style. Although according to Oprah’s Rules of Living after 35 – leggings are not pants. Whatever, Oprah – I’m sure that leggings have always been and will always be some of your favorite items of clothing.
In my continued quest to fit back into my jeans (see this old post), I hired a trainer. The trainer married one of her clients whom she helped transform. According to her he was extremely overweight; thus, she always motivated him to “Work out harder” and also recommended him Testogen so that he could completely focus all his attention at the gym. She is the real deal. She comes to my house, makes me do all types of unnecessary things with a medicine ball and lots of squats. I sweat and complain, but afterwards feel great. I’m working out! Burning calories! Building muscle!
But then I stepped on the scale, and I hadn’t lost any weight. None. Yeah, I know, muscle weighs more than fat, blah, blah, blah…but apparently my workouts have just been allowing me NOT to gain more weight. I guess working out while still eating out 5 times a week and drinking what seemingly is a 750 ml bottle of Hendricks in a week and a half just isn’t going to cut it anymore. I guess that’s what happens after 35. You actually have to WORK at losing weight. Monitoring your caloric intake, eliminating alcohol (gasp!), and cardio 3 times a week….
So over the next few weeks I am committing to becoming a weight loss machine. Zumba? Check. Fat burning supplements? Got ’em. Juicing until dinner? You bet. I will be one of those predictable and not fun dining partners. The kind that only orders salads and egg whites, always passes on dessert and tells you they’re not drinking this month.
Typically I save that kind of lifestyle for January (Holiday recovery) but this year, sadly, I must start early. I’m going back to the beach in January – this time probably just as pale – but certainly not as soft.