MIA
Missing: The gal with the go get it spirit at the gym.
I just don’t know what’s going on. I can’t seem to find it. I just don’t have the same go get it spirit I use to have for working out. I am the gal who use to take back-to-back weight lifting, Zumba, boot camp, cycling classes. Trainers have told me I finish what most won’t start. Where is that gal at now? I’ve tried and tried to find her, but she’s MIA.
I don’t really like group exercise classes so much anymore — too crowded, noisy, and stinky. I’d prefer to workout on my own, but I’ve never really gotten a good routine going since my leg was fractured last year. My leg feels better, stronger, but I’m a little tentative about working out by myself because I kind of want someone there to make sure I can get up off the ground after push-ups, planks, etc. I know, I probably just need to erase the fear factor and do it, but… Also, I really want some new kick-butt routines that are suited for my healing leg. Heavy sigh.
Yesterday, was a turning point for me, I hated the way the gym smelled — like stinky boys. Ugh. Despite the smell, I traveled back to the weight area where I usually love to hang out and flirt with the fellas, but that didn’t even spark me. I left after a subpar bid on the bike and a few lat pulldowns. What gives? I don’t know. My goal of Fit by Forty is just about six months a way. I need to find the next gear. I desperately want to get to the next level, but truthfully I don’t know how. I’m in need of a reboot. Resurgence.
This is hard, really, really hard. Battling obesity is the hardest battle I’ve ever fought.
Chrisetta Mosley
I am a product – and now a survivor – of childhood obesity. As a child, my family always told me that my extra weight was merely baby fat and I’d eventually grow out of it. I never did. Instead, my childhood is filled with memories of not being able to ride a bike, flattening its training wheels from being over the recommended weight, and avoiding P.E. classes by any means necessary. For years, I wore my fatness like a wounded soldier wears a Purple Heart - with pride. I owned the look. I dressed it up. I worked the room. There wasn't a skinny girl who intimidated me. I made sure my hair was laid just right. Nails polished. Outfits coordinated to the tee. Accessories to compliment every outfit. But everyone has a breaking point, and mine came in the spring of 2004 when I tipped the scale at nearly 400 pounds 388 to be exact. I was MISERABLE trapped inside of that body. I no longer wore my Purple Heart with pride. Rather, I was ashamed and frightened. Ashamed that I had allowed food to become my everything – frightened I would die because of it. Drastic times called for drastic measures... Today, I’m bound and determined to live a better, healthier, active lifestyle. I realize I’m no longer a passenger in my life, I’m the driver. I’m overcoming my inhibitions and I’m slowly but surely saying farewell to my old childhood nemesis, obesity. For once and for all, Farewell Fatso!